


World On Fire

by conveyer_belt



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Leia Organa, BAMF Rey, Eventual Smut, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Ghost Luke Skywalker, Jealous Kylo Ren, Jedi Rey (Star Wars), Kylo Ren and Rey Are Not Related, Kylo Ren is a Mess, Minor Finn/Rose Tico, Mutual Pining, POV Rey (Star Wars), Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Protective Poe Dameron, Rey-Centric, Slow Burn, because he is head over heels and a literal idiot, best of luck ben, in case you've never seen a jedi knight before, not a lot of spoilers really, rey is a badass if you've ever seen one, spoilers would be in the tags if i kept going, what a time to be alive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2020-03-04 22:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 43,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18822028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conveyer_belt/pseuds/conveyer_belt
Summary: After Crait, Rey throws herself into training because she had always been good with her body, her hands.  There's never been a problem she couldn't fix with a little perspiration and effort.But people aren't machines, and she's furious with  . . . him, and so she trains.  And builds.  And does her best to ignore the flames.





	1. Stop the Kriffing Begging

**Author's Note:**

> Star Wars, my one true love, has been irrevocably ruined (1. The new trilogy is based on a fundamental flaw - an incorrect and outlandish interpretation of the character of Luke Skywalker and 2. I hate the Last Jedi), so might as well participate. This story is nonetheless true to TFA and TLJ. Minimal purposeful experimentation with verb tense - please ignore if you don't enjoy. Thanks for stopping by! Buckle up, it's Rey's ride.

“Please.”

She jolted awake, sweating, the familiar nightmare clawing at her skin, tearing familiar words from her lips.

Every night for two months. Since Crait.

Rey had been careful. She’d barely told Leia about him. She’d been training, dying, sweating, learning from Luke and watched by Leia, falling asleep exhausted by the end of each day.

It didn’t keep the nightmares at bay (the throne room, burning, his eyes, blindly searching).

It had kept him away.

She’d resisted his pull in every way she knew how, driving herself to greater and greater heights each day, running until she was spent, drilling with her staff, using the Force to jump and soar and levitate and hurl.

Building a new lightsaber.

This was the only time she came close to meditating, when she was working on the blade. He had almost broken through her defenses at least twice, his emotions a yawning, raging mass of hurt and rage and need. She’d made her entire mind an ocean, depthless, calm, but filled with fight and waves.

Rey knew what they were saying about her. She could hear them whispering far farther than she had a right to. She heard them wondering if she had really killed Snoke, if she had some pull over the fearsome Kylo Ren. She heard them murmuring in awe as her training got more and more desperate, a grand show for no other purpose than to rid herself of him, of his touch, his voice –

“Please.”

She let out a strangled yell and got up, furious, desperate, hungry –

This was him. He had been there again.

She got up and slammed out of her quarters, pelting through their newly established base, her new blade fixed in her mind’s eye.

She saw others, did not acknowledge them. She still heard their whispers:

 _“All she does is fight.”_  
_“Rey seems unwell.”_  
_“She’s startling._  
_“She’s mad, as mad as him.”_

The last one stung.

She called her blade, and it came, singing in her hand.

She needed only one last mediation, one last moment with the Force. And then it would be whole.

She didn’t know if she could do it without him.

“Focus, Rey,” Luke said softly, his voice like a badly tuned frequency. “You can do this.”

He had materialized on the incline beyond the hanger, where she skidded to a stop.  “What if I am not strong enough.”

Luke chuckled. “I think that bridge disagrees with your assessment of your strength.”

She looked out over the wide fissure, beautiful in its danger, that had prevented them from expanding their base. Until she had single handedly built a bridge after a month here, sometimes people coming by and watching, the odd exclamation, other times just quiet. Scared?

Now the base was twice the size it had been, new recruits and old friends flocking to join General Organa and the woman who had killed the Supreme Leader Snoke.

Who the new Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren, was rumored to be searching for, desperately.

The new recruits told tales of the Order landing, searching, leaving. No violence, no occupation. Searching. One had seen him in the flesh, step out of his Silencer onto the earth of the planet, before declaring, “She isn’t here.” He turned, and left.

Yesterday, news had come that he had reopened the Galactic Senate, far away on Courscant.

She’d felt something, like a breath at her neck, and she had brutally slammed everything in her mind closed, opting for a freezing swim in the river below the fissure.

She refocused on Luke.

Hours later, the Force was coursing through her veins, making her calm, serene, the tether of this base, one with Force.  Her lightsaber was really singing, joining with her, the kyber crystal activating.

And then he was there.

Luke was gone.

Rey rose to her feet, the green blade screaming in her hand, not wanting to turn, not wanting it to be real.

“Please.”

“You can’t keep doing this,” her voice was flat, the surface of a lake. Anger leads to the dark side.

She can feel his rage, just as she had when she had tore herself from the nightmare that morning.

As she felt most mornings.

“I haven’t seen you in months,” his voice is rough and contoured with an edge she hates. “I can never see you in our dream.”

This doesn’t merit a response.

She’d been hoping it wasn’t true. She’d been hoping that he wasn’t there, that it wasn’t him, just a memory.

She’d known she was wrong, of course, but she’d been fighting to maintain denial, to become stronger, to not feel this hurt.

Apparently, he hadn't seen her struggle. “Rey. Where are you?”

What kind of question was that? She would never answer it.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

He was right behind her, she could see his shadow, she could breathe his scent, leather and oil and musk.

How badly she had wanted him.  He was vulnerable, he had touched her.

Then he was spewing vitriol, cloaking himself in dark energy and pushing her away. Claiming she meant something to him, but offering her no choice.

“Ever since you left me.”

You gave me no choice. She didn’t say it.

“Every night I hear you rejecting me. Every night I feel your exhaustion, your conflict, your strength, your loneliness, coursing through me like it is my own. But I can never see you, and I have never felt so cheated.”

He is hurting her. The longing in his tone, the desperation matches her own, though she has buried it deep. She wants nothing more in that moment than to look into his eyes.

The sigh was sudden and she could hear it shudder through him. “Just let me look at you. Please.”

It breaks her all over again, like it does every night. Rey risked everything for him. And then he had the audacity to suggest that he can help her, that she needs him, that this is the only way. It hurts. She wants to do it for him, but she cannot because he is the kriffing worst.

“Fine,” he breathed, rage blocking any other emotion from him. “I – ”

His presence winked out like a star in the dawning sky, and she exhaled, building walls back up, but a part of her thinks they are useless now.

The next day, the news came, sharp and shrill. Rey was running a circuit around the bridge. Backflip, swing, dodge, hurl boulder, launch across, and back again.

Poe and Finn joined her for lunch, as they did most days. Rose wasn’t with them today, which presented a twinge of disappointment for Rey, to her surprise.  She sat cross-legged with them, taking a moment to laugh at her friends – she wasn’t used to laughing and these moments were few and far between.  Finn was generally terrible at hiding his worry, Poe was moderately successful at disguising his admiration and . . . more, for her.  Rey could tell that she should not be able to see through them so easily, but, as Luke had noted, she is strong.

“Bit of unfortunate news,” Poe said, staring into her bones.  She shrugged uneasily.  His eyes were the wrong color.

“What happened now?” Her stomach dropped and her hand flew to her breastbone.  He’d gone on a rampage.  He’d lost her and he’d burned a city to the ground.

“Kylo Ren told a bounty hunter not to lay a finger on you, said quote, ‘She’s mine.’”

Rey snorted, because this didn’t quite sound like him. “Please,” she muttered into her sandwich.

“I saw the video,” Finn grimaced, looking uncomfortable.  “He almost killed the man.”

Rey frowned. Almost? Sounded even less like him.

She felt the pull of their bond almost immediately, and she tried not to groan. Not now.

He appeared, standing behind Finn, staring into the outer reaches of space, not noticing her.  Huge.  Looming large behind her friend.  She cleared her throat.  “I’m not afraid of him.”

The effect of her voice was instantaneous.  His whole body tensed, his long elegant fingers curling up into fists at the sound of her voice.

He turned, a startling look of blazing triumph on his angular face. Her breath caught in her throat, staring up at him, he was so tall, such a foreboding presence, a pillar of raging emotion. She felt pinned, trapped, as he merely stood there for a few moments, drinking her in.

Poe’s voice broke through, tinny and far away. “Rey, are you alright?”

His hand touched her wrist, and she jumped, torn away, turned to offer Poe a small smile.  “Of course. Don’t worry.”  Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him burning, glowering at this man.  “Isn’t it time for your meeting?”

Poe looked sheepish and ran his fingers through his hair.  “You’re right.  Sure you don’t want to come?”

Rey snorted, and rose to her feet.  “And what will it be today? ‘Can she really protect us if he comes?’ No thank you.”

Finn ventured, in a total non sequitur, “Someone yesterday said that you lifted an entire Y-Wing.”

Rey couldn't help but blurt, “So what if I did?”

He was getting impatient, stalking now, pacing back and forth, his eyes fixed on her face.

Finn looked momentarily dumbfounded, and then grinned.  “You have to show me later!”

“Get out of here,” she admonished, half-heartedly.

He left, Poe ahead of him.  She is staring at her mortal enemy, her closest friend.

His throat worked, jaw clenched, the warring emotions flickering over his face.  He was smug, he was yearning, he was thirsty, he was jealous?

She almost turned to spite him, but he managed to get out, “Rey.”

She didn’t speak, didn’t move. Her emotions are an ocean today, the waves concealing the depth of her turmoil.

“There are so many things to say.”

“I’d rather you don’t speak,” she told him.

“I saw him, that pilot,” he gritted out, the words seeming to flow involuntarily. “He touched you.”

“Sometimes people do that,” she told him, almost resigned now, trying to maintain her composure.

His eyes are fire and ash. “He wants you, I could see it on his face.”

“Your eyes betray you,” Rey hissed, and instantly she regretted it.  No.  This was not what she meant to say and she did not want desire discussed.  She should have side-stepped.

He, as she knew, couldn’t seem to help himself.  “I want you in ways that peasant could never imagine.”  She tried not to let the words affect her, but the wave still crests, she calmly allows others to wash over her, but the sting of that one remains.

She already knew he wants her. That was not the issue here.

He closed his eyes, he breathes, he steadied himself. “It is good to see your face.”

She was half surprised by this turn. “I wish I could say the same.”

His lips quirked into something like a smile, stealing her breath again. His eyes open, but they are still burning. “Still putting me in my place. Reminding me that you left me.”

“You gave me no choice,” she finally spit this out, another wave cresting across the shore in her mind.

He is gone.

The following week, systems are starting to feel out the Galactic Senate. Meetings have been held. The Supreme Leader is still searching for Rey.

She still woke up with his voice ringing in her ears, but now sometimes she could also feel him in a corner of her mind, telling her that he is coming for her. Sometimes he is immeasurably angry. Sometimes he is anguished and alone. Sometimes his words burn with fire and she runs until she can’t run any more.

She tries very hard to ignore him.

Three months from Crait finds her creating a new fissure in the ravine. The Force summons him for some unknown reason.

She hadn’t seen him, she had vaguely wondered if he had been resisting.  This time she spoke first.  “You’re crazy, you know.”  It’s conversational.

He looked at her like a starving man. “I _am_ starving,” he rumbles, picking the thought straight out of her head. “I can’t find what I need.”

You.

The implication is heavy and Rey flipped her lightsaber in annoyance. You could have had me, she wants to say.

His rage sparks against her, and he sneers, “Where are you.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Rey. I’m going to find you. I need to find you.”

She did not want to hear it, her lightsaber hummed to life and slashed the air – his is there.

Wide-eyed – _he can’t really be here_ – but then ferocious she hammered on him, until he disappeared.

This happened every day for a week. He asks her where she is. She begins swinging at him.

It felt good to work out like this. And she needed the practice.

It is also wearing down her resolve. Every time he comes he unblinkingly allows her to fight, watching her in earnest.

Every night, she hears him begging her.

He is gaining strength against her, but she can’t figure out how. At the end of the week of their sparring, as she sleeps, she is in the throne room. As always.

Something is wrong. It’s burning. He isn’t there.

His voice echoed suddenly. “Join me.”

She screamed, her patience so thin. “Stop it!”

“Please.”

Rey woke and showered, but could not drown out her thoughts.

He appeared. She swings. He won’t engage, he holds a hand up. “Talk to me for five minutes.” The request is dangerous. His anger is roiling. “Then I will fight you.”

She is tired.

Rey nodded and collapsed on a stone slab next to her bridge, saw him sit in his room, but he is right next to her.

“So.” She paused. “How are things.”

He smiled, a real smile, and she was momentary dazed. _There he is,_ she thinks, _Ben._

She hadn’t allowed herself to even _think_ his name, let alone say it. She thinks for a heart stopping moment that he has heard her, and he leans in close, “I would be better if you were sitting here with me, looking at me like that. Like you might give a damn.”

“Giving a damn got me nowhere,” she said, in a tone meant to be cool. “You’re still with them. You’re still a galaxy away.”

He growled, “I killed him for you.”

“You did that for you,” Rey is not sure. It shows.

His fists are hard on his thighs and she tried not to look, how his muscles are straining, how the veins in his arms are defined and his hands would dwarf hers. Tried not to think of how she likes his hands. How, when she is not exhausted, deep in her bones, she drifts off, thinking of his hands and what they could do to her. “I did it for you,” his voice was softer. “But I haven’t said thank you.”

Rey was not prepared for that. “What?”

“Thank you for giving me the strength to kill him, to pull away,” he told her, and his storm of emotions is silent. “You reminded me of what it was like, before I met him.”

She caught a flicker of wistfulness, sorrow. A brief touch of memory – Leia hugging a child.

“You’re still you,” she could not seem to stop herself. “Kylo Ren.”

Anguish. Fury.

“That’s five minutes,” he said curtly.


	2. I'll Never Tell You

The next day, he shadowed her through lunch.

“Don’t you have a galaxy to run or ruin or whatever your job is,” she hissed through her teeth as Poe approached.

He didn’t respond, his arms crossed and eyes burning into Poe’s flesh.  She buried a flash of annoyance that he could see her friend and used a cloth to wipe sweat from her face.  He annoyingly wasn’t even breathing that hard.  They’d only gotten in two short bouts – she could only assume that it was much hotter on her planet than whatever coolant rigged room he was glowering from.

“If you were here, we could be eating lunch together right now,” he grumbled.

Rey glared at him. “That’s what we would be doing?”

“Among other things.” And his voice is dark and hungry and he is too close. She imagines she can feel his breath on her neck. “I have a lot of ideas.”

Rey had only seconds before she could no longer speak to him. She did not use those seconds wisely. “Tell me.”

His grin was blinding as he settled beside her, ignoring Poe even when she could not. “There is a set of cliffs near my mother’s homeworld system. We need to go flying there. You’d love it.”

Not where she thought he would start.

He kept interjecting these kinds of thoughts as she struggled to maintain a rational conversation with the two men who were flesh and blood with her.

Poe predictably said something meant to be adorable and chucked her on the shoulder.

This cut him off abruptly (“I think that you would like having a waterfall in your chambers.  A far cry from Jakku. You could, you know.”) and now she is certain she can feel his breath on her neck, his arm at her waist.

She is very still.

His voice, dark with the need she can now recognize for what it is, sunk its teeth into her.  “I can see what he wants in his mind.”

She couldn’t move.  Instead, she offered a half smile to Poe, forcing a laugh.

An image flashes into the back of her mind, Poe’s hand is buried in her hair and he is kissing her in the river beneath her bridge.  She feels disinterested at best, surprised, and a bit shaken.

“I knew it.” The image flickers and dies and she is floored by his emotions – the rage almost dormant, exhilaration and possession and hope blazing through him. “I knew you did not want him. It’s not how I would do it, but – ”

The image reappears and it is Kylo Ren, resplendent in a heavy black mantle, standing ankle deep in the water, his fingers in her hair.  In his thought, he is holding her up with those big hands, muscles straining, as he devours her – nothing like the polite earnestness of Poe – and she can feel his fingers on her waist in the hazy present, he is pressing her against him and her breath hitches, confusion spiraling with his need.  Or is it hers?

“Yes,” he breathes, making her skin tingle.

“The holonet was buzzing today,” Finn said, but Rey is watching the long fingers tug through her hair, his lips angling against hers, and she is still aghast at the evidence of everything they hadn’t been talking about – well, what she hadn’t been talking about. “Kylo Ren is delivering a speech about elections tomorrow.”

“You’re what?” She gasped, this thought jerking her wide awake, banishing his thoughts for a moment. He grins against her neck, although he feels a mixture of frustration now. Quickly realizing her mistake, she said, “I mean, what?”

“The Order hasn’t carried out a military mission that wasn’t defensive in three months,” Poe told her, and she can feel her visitor’s excitement rising beside her.  He brushes his fingers against her cheek, and her skin stings.  He chuckles, sounding so smug she wants to punch him.  “Kylo Ren just returned to Coruscant yesterday. He was looking for you in the Outer Rim, but apparently disrupted a minor slave trade that was flourishing out there instead.”

“I couldn’t find you.” The sorrow in his words feels real, screws into her like guilt.

“What has the General said?” She couldn’t say his mother’s name when he is beside her.  But he is distracted anyway, fixated on the sensation of touching her, and she nearly drowns in it, barely keeping afloat in her own ocean.

“We aren’t going yet,” Finn said. “She thinks it is a trap.”

“What is he doing?” And the hiss is primarily directed at him, whose nose is now in her hair and her breath is stuttering, her stomach clenching.

“Who knows,” Finn shrugged.

“You’ll see,” he breathes. “I’m feeling magnanimous. This has been the best day I’ve had in years.”

She is working very hard at being an ocean.  She doesn’t want him to feel what she is feeling, she needs to work it out on her own.  He can feel her withdrawing, and he regretfully drops a hand from her cheek.  “I’m sorry,” he says unexpectedly. “I’ve been controlling myself with you. The pilot unsettled me.”

She finds that it is ok.  She lets that emotion through.  The immediate punch of satisfaction from him is exceedingly annoying, and she scowls.

“There are more rumors,” Poe said, his sharp gaze boring into her. “That Kylo Ren is nothing like Snoke, he was just a puppet, and now he has his own mind. That he wants to rectify the damage done by that tyrant.”

Rey stood, leaving the man at her feet, needing the ocean to encompass her, to cut him off.  She couldn’t hear this.

“Rey?” Finn looked concerned and a corner of her brain registered it.

“I’m fine.”

“We’ve all suffered at the hands of that monster,” Poe said.  “It can’t be true. Can it?”

The rage spikes through her ocean. Monster.

She chose her words carefully. “He is not what he seems.”

Poe was only silent for a moment. “He killed Snoke, didn’t he.”

Finn lashed out, “Poe!  She said she doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“Why is he looking for you?” Poe’s gaze was still intense, and she suddenly saw jealousy reflected back at her.

He is gone.

Her shoulders slumped.  She collapsed on the ground, the effort of the ocean, of so many restless nights weighing on her.  She didn’t want to talk about this.  But maybe she should.

Not with them though.

She ignored them quite well as she examined her thoughts.  Now that he was gone, her feelings were resolving themselves, becoming less jumbled.

She turned over, staring at the clear blue sky. She could not trust him.

But there is a part of her that still thinks he is Ben, that maybe he is going to pull through.

A part of her that wants him to be Ben, wants to be with that person she saw in him that night when he killed Snoke, for one blinding moment. She’d felt it in him in flashes when he appeared before – the light.

So she’d wait. She wasn’t going to encourage him, but she wasn’t going to let him divide her any longer.

If he became Ben. Then she’d consider him.

This decision opened a door she’d been fighting to keep closed – a door hiding dreams and possibilities and the deep, shaking need to be with him, with Ben.

She breathed it in for a moment, thinking, yes.  Maybe this could still happen.  Maybe he will pull through.  She leans into the kiss he gives her in the ravine.  She sees him standing next to her, fingers trailing through a waterfall on a small table, his other hand in hers.

She resolved to close this door again, because he didn’t deserve it and he had a lot more work to do. And she couldn’t know his intentions behind the driving need.

She let go, at peace with this decision, and something boomed off to her left, shaking the ground beneath her.

She sat up to meet the stares of Finn and Poe – Finn looked slack-jawed, Poe’s admiration was burning so bright – she’d just cleared rubble from an entire excavation, effortlessly, without thinking. A project she had been meaning to spend the afternoon on.

“I just needed a minute,” she reassured them. “Kylo Ren . . . Was trying to find me. He has not.”

Poe grimaced. “You could feel him?”

“It is not uncommon with Force users,” she lied. “I need to keep moving. What should we do next?”

Finn tried to drop it for her, told her about a training crash she could move.

She moved it, exhaustion seeping deep into her bones.

It was not enough.

“Please.”

She woke up as always, ears ringing. She blocked him the whole day, but she also talked to Leia. A short conversation, a warning that Kylo Ren may have changed, after all. Leia did not ask out loud, but Rey could feel her concern, her sorrow.

Kylo Ren’s announcement is a timeline. Elections in a month, withdrawal of some occupation forces in six. His leadership indefinite for now.

“Loyal citizens,” his voice crashed over her like a wave, deep and modulated through the stupid helmet. “Let us walk forward into this new day together. I speak now to the Resistance – I see the purpose of your fight. The needs of my former master were cruel and unjust. He destroyed many an innocent and crushed any spirit. I look forward to the day when we can work together to restore order to the galaxy. To rebuild the Galactic Senate.”

The entire room, the largest hall in the base, was almost full. Everyone was silent.

“Let’s see what happens,” Poe’s voice broke into the fragile ice.  His eyes had found hers, boring uncomfortably into her as always.  “Let’s prepare to defend the elections as a neutral party.”

Rey dropped Poe’s gaze, stared at her hands, clasped carefully in front of her as she stood behind Leia, drinking this in.  She had half expected him to mention her.  Her mind was clear suddenly.  Clearer than it had been in days.

Everyone was staring at her.  She looked up to survey the throng – this wasn’t even a fourth of the people who lived on the base.  People had kept coming, hearing about the Jedi and the world she protected.  She didn’t know how they found her, while he could not.

She had been ignoring all of this.  Didn’t want it.  Leia knew, and Rey was tangentially annoyed by the woman’s happiness that Rey had come at all, that she was standing as a leader.

If leading meant clawing tooth and nail, she’d be good at it. Not all problems could be solved by sheer exertion alone, and that was why she did not want to lead.

Still. The Force was gentle with her, guiding her past the instinct that made her only see hostility.  These people cared about her, took pride in her.  She even liked some of them.  Rose caught her eye, smiled encouragingly.  She wasn’t alone.

He was. Damn him.

“Kylo Ren may not be the threat we thought,” she admitted this and he was pushing into a corner of her mind, trying to gauge her reaction, still a maelstrom of fury and need.

That also hadn’t changed.

She maintained her calm. A lake, flat and calm now, he couldn’t read her.

She opted for opacity. “The Force has been guiding me these past months. It teaches patience in the wake of change.”

Someone shouted, “What if he finds you?”

“What if he finds _us_?” Rey’s reaction even surprised herself – she would not entertain rumors and half-truths.  The life force tugging her against all these people – it made her feel strong, centered. “I will handle him.”

A thought spiked out at her, from Poe. _That man won’t know what hit him._

Leia drew her aside, after. “Rey. You’ve grown so much, but I just want to make sure you are alright? These months have been hard for you – you push yourself so much.”

This was the moment she needed. Her mind was still clear, she had even blocked that corner where he is swirling, frustrated and alone.

“There is a problem,” her breath stuck in her throat suddenly, what a relief this was!

“He talks to you, doesn’t he?” A tear rolled down Rey’s cheek. She was still so angry at him. She tried not to be. She wished she was stronger.

Luke materializes. “You are stronger than I ever was.”

Leia does not appear perturbed by this. She never was. “Your strength is incredible, Rey. How is my son?”

Confused. Angry. Killing me.

“Change is not easy,” Luke says. “I did not have this opportunity with my father, to see him change. He burned it down – Ben could have done that.”

“I know what he could have done,” Rey snapped. “I know how high my expectations were.”

Leia had so much hope. More than Rey. “Maybe he just needed more time.”

“Every time we speak he is just grinding on me, trying to convince me that I should join him, that we won’t be alone. Even if he has changed, it makes me want to kill him,” the words just spilled out of her. “He left me. He chose this. He chose to be alone.”

“He regrets these choices?” Leia sounded like she was trying very hard to not let the hope bleed into her voice.

“It doesn’t change the fact that he hurt me!” Rey burst out, but her own words stopped her.  Was this more personal than she had realized?

Luke says, “Clear your mind.”

Kriffing sands. “Fine. He’s changed.”

“Please help him, Rey,” Leia clearly meant it as a favor.

Rey felt more like herself, getting this off her chest. Though she wasn’t herself, any more, she thought.

She was a Jedi. She was strong enough now to survive anywhere, to never have to worry about food or water again.  She was stronger than her past – she hadn’t spared a thought for her family in months.  She had these people, the Skywalkers, Finn and Poe and even Rose.

In a weird way, she had him.

He was really going to have to work for this though, she thought again.

“We already decided to be ready for the elections. I will let you know if anything changes.”

She tried a new tactic over the next three weeks, getting to know the many people at the base, not as wary.  Helping them.  Working from sunrise to sundown with different people, expanding the base, training, rebuilding.  She even went on a mission, dealing with a rogue Order fleet and sending the underlings of the mutineers back to Kylo Ren.

She slept marginally better.  He hadn’t seemed to make progress past the empty the throne room.  He didn’t materialize, and she said nothing.

Their Force bond still presented him to her a few times.  She was busy, and so was he.  She saw him struggling to focus on meetings, searching for her, he saw her drilling with new battalions, building hangars, catching the predators that liked to rip down satellite dishes.

What a welcome break.

Finally, after a couple days of him becoming more and more insistent – alternating between the rage she knew best and the begging that cut into her very soul – she gave in. She had taken a break from people.  She was back by the bridge, and a number of target droids were clustered behind her.  She had been testing herself, why not test him?

“Rey,” his voice is furious.  She shivered.  “Rey, where are you.”

Right.  He’d gone back to searching for her.

"Do you mean it?” She cut him off.

His fists are clenched, veins straining in his neck. “Do I mean what,” he gritted out.

She shrugged, really trying to keep her emotions in check. “The elections.”

“Of course I mean it,” his voice hissed out. “Which you’d know if you would just talk to me.”

She shrugged. “I don’t need to talk to you.”

The fury wars with hurt and incredulity inside him. “Yes you do.”

“I have others I can speak to.”

This time he draws his lightsaber instead of her.  She welcomed this, fighting was easy.

When the Force banishes him back to his sparse ship, she sighed.  He hadn’t quite failed the test.  He hadn’t passed either.

That night, he talks at her, like she has never heard him before.  He tells her about his parents, about the Jedi academy.  Adventures with Chewie.  A friend he had lost to Snoke. Flying though the cliffs he had told her about. 

She woke up, and her heart isn’t beating out of her chest. She stared at the ceiling, swallowing against the last memory he’d shared of Luke showing him a starfish in the ocean on Anch-to.

Maybe she won’t test him again.  


	3. The Less I Think About It

The Force called him to her at lunch, when she was at a mess table with more people than she’d ever imagined actually knowing while on Jakku.  They were preparing to leave to rendezvous with the navies of several systems.  She’d only half listened when Rose talked about places they had never seen.  She was not sure she was going.  

He looked haggard, like he hadn’t slept while he whispered to her in her sleep. He was in a rigid parade rest, boring into her soul, as much of it as he could see.  She blinked.  His gaze flickered around the table, his lips curling as he saw Poe.  She immediately excused herself to get more food.  

He walked with her, still glowering, but today all she can sense is desperation, pain.  

“Thank you,” her mouth felt dry. “It is nice to talk to you sometimes.” 

“You didn’t talk,” his retort edged with only a jagged confusion.  “I’d hoped you’d want to after my announcement.”

“How is it going, anyway?” She avoided the personal talk.  “Logistically speaking.”

He sighed, running thick fingers through his hair.  “Difficult.  I can’t wait for Mother to get here.”

Now she felt him trying to gauge her feelings, and she felt confident in the door that hid her true ones.  She remembered what he had said, when she had told him that he would get nothing out of her, when she had strained against bonds, physical and mental, several lifetimes ago. 

Before she had truly fought him for the first time.  Held her own.  Left her mark in his flesh.

Before she had met Luke.  Gained, learned of her own strength.

Before they had really known each other.  Before she could read him like she couldn’t even read her own mind, her own feelings.

Before all that, he had been so sure – so cocky.  He’d offered her this barely perceptible, smug and infuriating smile.  He’d said, “We’ll see.”

She didn’t doubt herself.  He could only see so much.

The memory seemed to flicker across his face, his big eyes wide with that ever-present self-torture, regret, but that supreme confidence still echoed in his persistence, determination. “Will you come?”

She doesn’t answer because she isn’t sure yet. 

His desperation claws at her throat suddenly, and she gasps. 

“I thought you wanted me.”

He grits it out like the words are dragged over a landing strip, graveled and catching, as he looms next to her, his eyes never leaving her face.

It’s a declaration if she has ever heard one.  She shook her head, placing another roll on her tray just for something to do.  “I can’t trust you.”

He was volatile, flipping on the edge of a coin, elation creeping in.  “So you do.”

What was the answer here?  She didn’t want to hurt him. “I still can’t trust you.”

The slightly manic gleam in his eye did not frighten her, but it was disconcerting.  Like a glimpse into a future that didn’t exist yet, a knock on her door.  He stepped closer, sensing his advantage.  “I’m going to prove myself to you, Rey.  I am.  I will make myself worthy of you.”

Despite this being something she secretly wanted to hear, she was still annoyed.  Maybe she would always be annoyed with him.  The annoyance stirred up reluctant feelings, catching at her throat like his words had at his.  “You have a lot to prove,” she says instead, striding back to her table.  

He is so close.  His fingers brush her cheek.  

“What was that?” A frightened voice breaks into her mind, shaking him away.  Rey doesn’t know the boy who has spoken, who was staring hard at the patch of nothing that was just Kylo Ren. 

Hm. 

Rey caught his mother by the sleeve, asking where they were from.  Maybe the boy would like to see her train.  His mother seemed frightened, but not of her.  

Her friends were gossiping when she returned.  She didn’t want to hear anything else about him, but by now, Finn and Poe found him endlessly entertaining.  

“He’s in the Yavin system again,” Finn looked confused as he said this. “Far from here. You’d think he would be better at this.”

“He’s not,” Rey muttered.  

Several sets of eyes settled on her.  “Still not up for discussion.”  Their groans sounded good natured, and she smiled at Finn, who was just burning with curiosity.  Her reluctance to discuss him – to discuss Snoke – was now well-known, not even a point of contention, really. 

Rose leaned across Finn – “Is he hot?”

Supremely grateful that he was no longer present, she scowled at Rose, who had no personal experience with, no personal hatred for this enemy.  Seemed to think he might be a victim, just like the rest of the debris left in Snoke's wake. The rest of the table actually laughed, except Poe, except Finn.  “What kind of question is that?”

“He is searching for you everywhere,” Rose grinned.  “Aren’t you the least bit curious why?”

“Maybe to kill me?” 

Rose rolled her eyes.  “You need to keep up with the holonet.  The whole First Order is convinced he is in love with you.”

Rey felt the words punch her in the throat, she was lost for air.  The whole kriffing galaxy.  He’d – why – how could he –

She roared into his mind like a sandstorm, truly furious for the first time since Crait.  She’d been doing such a good job at controlling it.  She’d done such a good job at ignoring anything about him unless she had to know. 

His mind was wide open to her, he clearly didn’t bother to protect against her, perhaps because she had never done this. 

Less than ten minutes had passed, but now he was with others.  Generals, by insignia, a meeting, holograms because he was far from home.  He held up a hand, his emotions turning, and said, “There is a disturbance in the Force. I will be back with you in a moment.” 

She’d caught him however.  His anger, nearly nonexistent.  His pain, ever present.  And in the forefront of his mind –

The moon of Yavin he was searching had the same climate as her planet.  A driving need, a purpose.

The depth of that purpose, the strength. 

His only purpose.

The darkness, the need, hungry and desperate.

The earnestness, matching the darkness, bright, certain, yearning.  

She recoiled, shocked, truly shocked that he’d hid that light from her.  She had been thinking that maybe his feelings were not real, that he was simply guilty, lonely.

His eyes didn’t betray him.  They burned like fire. 

Far away, Rose grabbed her hand, which was shaking, along with the table, her silverware. 

He didn’t seem to realize how far she’d gone into his mind.  He was bewildered on the surface, stunned by her anger, her strength. _Good_. Her thought screamed at him. _You should be.  You don’t know me._

The anger was dangerous. His was rising, answering hers, obscuring what she had seen, felt, clear as a kyber crystal. 

That was fine.  She needed this, needed to rage against him, because the light had called to her, had whispered that word to her, the word that she equally hated and wanted to respond to more than anything. 

“Rey.”  His anger wrapped her name in darkness laden with purpose, desire.  “What – ”

She saw his eyes widen as the spark for the inferno lodged in his brain, as he processed her reaction to the gossip she’d just heard.  Panic flashed for a moment, buried quickly by the anger and contempt.  “Don’t believe everything you hear,” he sneered.  “Love is for children.”

_You told them there was a disturbance?_  Her thoughts felt hysterical.   _Do they know?_

He relaxed against the pilot’s seat, the sneer twisting against his lips, smug.  “Know what? You never come to me.”  He leaned forward, his eyes burning.  “I wish you would.  Where are you, Rey?” 

“Stop looking for me!”  She knew, distantly, that she’d accidentally said these words out loud, and Rose’s hand was tight on hers. 

She tried to pull out, but the Force had other ideas, keeping her in his cockpit.  She was breathing hard.  Why did it need her here?  She closed her eyes, breathing deeply, ignoring him, taking hold of her anger, resisting his. 

She felt his position wavering.  He wanted to talk to her.  She had surprised him, so angry after he clearly thought he had gained ground.  He was unsure.  “I will never stop looking, Rey.”  But wistfulness edged the anger, and she saw through him. 

She dug deeper in the Force allowing acceptance to flow through her.  Alright. 

He was gone.  

The silverware settled. The world returned to color, the space of the hall expanding out from the cramped cockpit, Rose touching her hand. 

The girl was all rounds, eyes and mouth. “You truly didn’t know.”

Leia was there, behind Rose and white as a sheet.  

“You saw him?”  Rey groaned.

“I also had to stop you from starting a storm of silverware,” Leia’s voice was warm, amused, belaying her shock. 

“I’m sorry,” Rey meant it.  She hadn’t meant to lose control like that. 

“It was merited,” Leia said.  “I sensed his presence.  His words were. . . Unexpected.” 

Rose was still gripping her hand, intensely scrutinizing her.  “So it’s true?” 

Rey gritted her teeth, the acceptance of the depth of his feelings weighing against her chest.  “I feel the conflict within him.  I can’t say what he will do or why.” 

Rose gave her hand a final squeeze.  “It’s ok, Rey.  Whatever happens.  There are so many reasons to hope.”

“Thanks,” Rey’s throat felt thick.  She was grateful for this friendship, something she had never dreamed she would have.  She was also grateful that Rose seemed to think that Rey had not failed at her mission. 

She would never forget the look on Leia’s face when she told her, “I thought I could turn him. I failed.”  She’d said it tonelessly, thoughtlessly, in a public space.  She knew that the whispers had started because of that, because she had admitted to having some sort of connection with him, to seeing something in him that others did not see. 

People were of course staring, but Rey had not realized how used to her they had become.  No one seemed that concerned – of course Leia had helped prevent a true scene. 

Poe’s wingman looked unperturbed, as did a lieutenant named Connix who Rey had been getting used to during her campaign to meet more people.  The rest of Poe’s old squadron were clearly listening, but none of them looked more than perhaps uncomfortable.  

She took a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, looked at Rose.  “Tell me about the First Order.” 

After lunch she told Leia that her son loved her, and that she was still very angry and didn’t trust him.  

Leia told her to come with them to observe the elections.  “You won’t have to see him if you don’t want to.”

Rey reluctantly agreed. 

When she prepared for bed, she thought, I will see what he has to say tonight.  I will be on Corscaunt in two days.  

The throne room burned as always.  

For once, she tried to speak to him. “Please don’t go this way.” 

He was there, for the first time in weeks.  Directly before her. 

The pain from earlier was stark, but his anger was back and twisting like a living thing between them.  Her fault. She sighed. 

He rumbled, “You’re talking to me?” 

She cleared her throat uncomfortably.  “Yes.”

He narrowed his eyes, and she felt him reaching out, moving through her mind.  She didn’t try to stop him.  Those walls and doors – he wouldn’t be able to break them. 

He found her genuine remorse, her conflict.  He did not find her shock, her knowledge of his mind.  He did find her acceptance – though it confused him because he couldn’t quite gauge what this meant for him.

She wasn’t entirely sure.  Hence, the conflict. 

“There was no conflict before,” he said evenly, the anger lashing against her, making her unsure.  “You believed in me wholeheartedly.” 

“I still believe in you,” she found this hard to admit. 

“Yet you won’t talk to me while I am singlehandedly attempting to sew democracy back together and I have no idea what I’m doing,” he growled.  

“I certainly don’t know anything about democracy,” she protested.  “How am I supposed to help?”

“I’d like your advice!” His voice was rising, on the edge of a shout.  “Your faith!  At the very least, tell me if what I am doing is right!”

“Can’t you see that on your own?”  Now she was shouting.  “You should know right from wrong!  You are not a child!” 

“If you think I am doing the right thing, I would still like to know!”

“Of course you should hold elections!  That is just common sense, I don’t think you should get credit for simply meeting that low bar!” 

“It is a big deal for me – a military does not run as a democracy!  But it still functions.  So too could a government.” 

“Not a good one, not one that will do the work of the people,” her retort had lost some of its bite.  

“So.  You agree with what I have done?”  His gaze was taut, expectant.  He’d drawn closer than she realized.  He was staring down at her from his great height, wearing only loose slacks and a sleeveless top.  Black.  Thick muscle wrapped his arms, tensing as he unconsciously flexed his fists.  She imagined the ocean now, burying her reaction beneath other emotions rippling across the surface.  

He had been paying close attention, and his eyes are burning.  She clasped her hands in front of her, the Force rippling around her, deep and calm.  “Of course,” her voice was steady.  “If you go through with it.  If it works.  If you continue the transition.” 

“Oh, I will.  Will you come?”

He is focusing on something and she can’t quite catch it.  Her fingers tighten over her knuckles.  “I have entertained the idea.” 

“Come.” He tilted his head back, regarding her with those burning eyes.  “Please.”

Her heart stuttered like a traitor.  The throne room, the fire, flickered and suddenly all she can see behind him is dirt and shale.  She blinked in a twilight haze, stumbling as she looked down and realized she is standing in water – she can’t feel it and it’s disconcerting.  

Stumbles right into him.  

His hands caught her, and it doesn’t feel like she is dreaming.  He is warm and real and she is stunned that after so many nights he has managed to conjure up – the river, below her bridge in the ravine.  Of course. 

“I thought you said this is not what you would do,” she told him, looking up at him very slowly. A hand had landed on his chest.  She could feel his heart beating, steady.  She didn’t think she should move it.  His palms are near her elbows and her skin prickles with his heat.

“I wouldn’t,” he scoffed.  “You can’t hide this from me, Rey.  It’s what you want.”

“You don’t know what I want,” but her voice is breathy as his left hand dropped from her arm to span her hip, his hand was huge and slipped against the skin underneath her sleep shirt.  She tried to shut off the part of her brain that wants his fingers elsewhere.

“Don’t I,” he laughed, darkness and gloating.  He had _laughed_.  Her brain seemed several beats behind his fingers trailing up her side.  “I can feel ripples of it now, and just moments ago.  You want me to touch you, to wrap my fingers in your hair.  You want to know what I taste like.  You try to hide it, but you can’t hide from me.” 

He stepped into her, she could feel every muscle in his chest.  She grabbed his arms to either steady herself or step away – but in the moment where she was deciding, he wrapped his hand through her hair, tugging gently.  His breath is hot and vivid near her cheek.    

Her fingers dug into his chest, his arm as she tilted her head up.  He smelled like leather.  Before she collected her wits, she wished that he slept without a shirt.  Time for that later.  Focus. 

“I’ve been hiding quite successfully from you,” she told him, trying not to drown in the depths of his dark eyes.  Her nails bit into his bicep, and he hissed, his fingers tightened in her hair.  A shoot of pleasure and pain went through her neck, distracting.  Edging at her control.   

“And yet here you are.  In my arms.  I’ve never felt so alive.”

The heat clawed at her throat, making it hard to breathe around his smugness.  “Don’t get used to it.” 

“If this were my dream,” his tone was conversational and she was definitely feeling things she thought she had locked up. “You’d be sitting in my throne, and I would be tasting you for the first time. You’d look a vision, thighs spread, fingers in _my_ hair.  For once you’d be begging _me_.”

She forced herself awake, her heart beating out of her chest again.  She knew that if she had stayed a moment longer in his dream – despite his denial that it was his, it was definitely his – she would have kissed him.  His words, his hands, dwarfing her, making her burn. 

Making her want him even more. 

It wouldn’t have been so bad, she thought, aching.  Behind the door in her mind, she wanted him desperately, needed him.  She didn’t normally let herself think these things because very few corners of her mind were safe from him, and the more she thought about him, the easier it was for him to break her – as was evidenced by tonight. 

But she needed him to prove more than just his ability to please her.  She needed time, to see.

Still, she could give herself this moment.  She wanted to feel this.  She thought about his words, his huge hands burning heat against her skin, imagining it was his fingers deep inside her as she searched for her release.  She moved her fingers faster, roughly, knowing that he wouldn’t be gentle, he would want more and he would take it –

“Please,” she murmured, gasping, so close. “Ben.” 

She sighed quietly as she came, the tension easing, muscles spent.  

A moment of calm.  Peace.  Bliss.

Then – kriffing sands, he was going to be insufferable if he found this memory.  She stretched out on her cot, beginning to meditate, burying this private moment deep. 

Two days to Courscant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously I borrowed "love is for children" from a true icon. RIP.


	4. I Know There Is Strength In Numbers

 

This was only the second time she had left her tiny planet in months.  She’d built a shield generator to protect the base, but part of her felt that it was unnecessary – if he hadn’t found her yet, he wasn’t going to find the base while she was gone.  

Everyone seemed to be avoiding her this morning, but she didn’t much mind as she ghosted through the store rooms, the hangars, the mess halls, all that she had help build while they were waiting for people to fill the space.  She found herself outside, staring over the bridge, looking at the bustling city that had sprung up across her ravine.  

It had basically happened without her even noticing, despite the empty field and gently sloping hill between the main hangar and the bridge being generally known as her territory.  Bars had sprung up.  A salon.  A day care center.  She would have been shocked, but the Force was flowing through her, a river of tranquility and calm.  

It brought Luke. 

“Have you opened the box I asked Leia to give to you?”

Rey grimaced.  “I haven’t yet.  I am sorry, Master.” 

He chuckled.  “You’re busy.  Look at what you have built.”

“How did this happen?”  She hadn’t really meant to say it out loud, but it felt like the last four months had been the longest in her life and that she should remember them well.  She did not.  Or, at least, what she remembers is narrow.  Narrow focus, narrow gains.  Build a bridge.  Move some rocks.  Shift a Y-Wing.  Thatch a roof.  Even when she had started talking to others, feeling out the human relationships that she craved, her focus had been narrow.  Speech.  Strength.  Individuals.  Not big picture, she left that to Leia, Poe, and the other people who knew how war and politics worked. 

Luke laughed again.  “You _are_ narrow minded, but it is a strength, not a weakness.  You see obstacles and you overcome them.  You are untroubled by their collective weight.”

“Others can worry about that,” she muttered.  “Although, I have started thinking, if I really am the last Jedi – I would not like to be.  I would like to teach, like you did.”

“And you will be better at it than me,” Luke told her.  “Your years in the desert left a clean slate.   My years in the desert made me antsy, a dreamer.  Yearning for something more.  You taught yourself discipline, patience.  I never had any.”

“You had enough,” she told him, an echo of a past not her own washing over her.  “You are a good teacher.” 

“You have everything now,” he told her, his eyes crinkling at her compliment.  “With everything I have taught you, along with everything in the box you’ve decided not to open, you have thousands of years of knowledge.  I would prefer that you do not waste it.” 

“I won’t,” she told him carefully, ignoring his teasing.  “This is something I can see.  It is something I saw when I saw . . . _his_ future.  I saw us teaching, I saw the Jedi spreading peace throughout the galaxy.” 

“I know,” his voice was suddenly heavy with age, regret.  “There are many things you have yet to learn.  And I know someone who can teach you some.” 

“Someone?”  Rey was confused.  He couldn’t mean his nephew.  He had learned everything from Luke too.  “But none are left.” 

“It is someone I want to introduce to you,” Luke told her.

Rey felt another Force signature coalescing, along with a spike of emotion from the main base down the hill, from Leia.  

“Maybe we should wait for her, actually,” Luke suddenly looked uncomfortable.  “She hasn’t seen him in . . . a long time.” 

Rey was curious, but unperturbed.  “Should I teach on Anch-to?”

“There are a few places you could teach.  I think you should consider the rebuilt Temple on Coruscant, however.  At least, to start.  That is an old tradition I should not have ignored.” 

“Did you find anything?  Was there anything left?”

Luke crossed his arms, looking grumpy.  “I’m going to leave that question to our visitor.”

“Have you . . .tried to talk to . . .”  She couldn’t say his name just yet.  She was afraid that he would appear.  

Luke still looked grumpy.  “I am still disgruntled with him.  The boy has a good deal of hate in his heart.”  In response to Rey’s stony expression, he held up a hand.  “But I’ve come around to your way of thinking.  I’ve sent him a couple notes, unclear if he wishes to return them.” 

“You . . . know what I told Leia, right?”

“That he loves you?” Luke sounded supremely casual.  “Come on, kid.  Here, you’re too narrow minded for your own good.” 

“How was I supposed to know?” she spluttered. 

Luke clearly did not think this warranted an answer.  “While we wait for Leia, I am going to explain the contents of the box.”

Luke ran through a number of texts, a holographic archive drive, a robe that had belonged to his Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, a lightsaber that had been built by one of the members of the last Jedi Council, a collection of holocrons from the most ancient Jedi, Yoda.  “You will be able to run through a large range of the electronic information quickly,” he told her.  “Not in-depth, but the basics were meant to be immersed in months, not years.” 

Leia arrived, alone.  She did not look pleased.  “I had assumed he had passed on,” her tone was sharp.  “Otherwise, perhaps he could have helped my son.” 

Luke looked abashed.  “He tried, Leia.  Snoke blocked him, for all of these years.” 

Some of the tension eased from her shoulders.  “I suppose that’s a passable excuse.”

Rey watched as another Force ghost coalesced in full – he’d been waiting for Leia.  He was a young man, much taller than Luke, with wavy golden-brown hair and blue eyes, clad in Old Republic Jedi garb.  A scar marked the right side of his face, near his eye.  

He reminded her of – 

“Leia,” the man inclined his head, his voice husky and untouched by time.  “I trust you are well.”

“Father,” Leia’s tone was just a shade warmer than frosty.  “Rey was planning on leaving with us soon, to go meet my son.”

“You’re Darth Vader?” Rey blurted out, remembering the firm belief held by Kylo Ren that he was carrying on his grandfather’s legacy.  

_Heir apparent to Lord Vader._

But Darth Vader had been one of the most terrifying men the galaxy had ever known.  And this man – she could see him as intimidating, in the set of his shoulders, the furrow of his brow, but –

“I’d prefer Anakin, young Padawan,” the man told her, his voice smooth, confident.  He was certainly not what she had expected.  

Also, was she always going to be a padawan?!  “I thought you said she was patient,” Anakin quirked a brow at Luke.  

“Compared to us?” Luke laughed.  “More than patient.” 

“Have you seen my son?”  The irritation radiating off Leia was more than palpable.  Rey thought anyone, Force sensitive or not, would have felt it.

“Yes, but I have not told him who I am,” Anakin said slowly.  “We have spoken about conflict.  Turning back.  I have advice, but no experience.” 

Leia looked moderately appeased.  “I have last minute details to attend to.  I expect we will speak soon.  Rey, you have two hours.” 

Rey spent those hours discussing logistics, lore, training.  There was no time for sentimentality, personal questions. That was fine.  She’d find out.  

Luke was annoyed.  His father had held out on him. 

“I hid a weapons depot, a training ship, during my rampage,” Anakin admitted.  “I thought I could use it for future Sith, but instead I was uninterested in teaching.  When you asked me, Luke, I kept this one hidden, against this day.” 

“Right,” Luke was still annoyed.  “Against the day I failed.” 

“As a backup plan,” Anakin corrected, an amused smile curling at his lips and making him look handsome, warm.  The confusion that Rey had shelved popped up again, but she buried it in light of the task at hand.  “The Jedi had many.  It is the only one I know of, but I have an idea that there are several more, untouched.”

“Well I found another,” Luke groused. “No thanks to you.” 

Rey invited them to stay as she packed, prepared, boarded Leia’s flagship.  Requisitioned a hangar to train in.  Covered an entire holoboard more than ten times in notes, trained, plotted a course to the training pod, for when the time came.

Night arrived, but she didn’t want to sleep.  She continued.  

Anakin had seen the Jedi during the end of a golden age.  He showed her all that he could, the amount of knowledge staggering.  A world of glitter and wisdom and power.  

Gone.  

The amount of remorse in Anakin, also staggering. 

So like his grandson.  In looks, in temperament.  It was becoming less confusing with every passing minute.  

Others visited.  Obi-Wan.  Obi-Wan’s Master, Qui-Gon Jinn.  Yoda. 

So many names and years and places, so much more than she had ever imagined one galaxy could hold.  Words spun around them, breathing life into what had been lost.  

Time lost meaning.  

Before she knew it, Leia was gliding across the hangar, still looking vaguely disapproving when she saw her father, still here, still with Luke.  “We have arrived.  You should rest.”

Rey left Leia to talk to her father, after thanking Anakin, Luke.  

Her brain felt overstuffed, but she was so grateful.  She had heard so many stories, learned so much.  She knew this would not be the last time.  

She hit the fresher in a daze, bone tired.  She hadn’t slept in over 52 hours.  She wasn’t sure if she should risk sleep . . . but perhaps if she slept when he was preoccupied with his mother, with meetings. 

She slept.  

She saw Leia from far away, as if she was watching from the window of her shuttle.  

Kylo Ren stepped onto the platform to meet her. 

She woke up, slightly disoriented.  

The throne room had not appeared to her. She did not know what this meant.  But she felt amazing.  Refreshed. 

She rose, did a morning meditation and workout, showered.  A sun was rising.  

If she had really spent the entire journey with the Jedi, then today was the day of the elections.

It was strange not having a plan for today.  And she actually missed him.  The amount of energy in the hangar had been overwhelming – she had been totally immersed and she doubted that he had been able to feel her.  

She imagined that he was dressing carefully, setting his broad shoulders against the day.  Thinking of her?  Wondering where she might be?  

He might not even know she was here. 

She put on the old Jedi robe Luke had left her. 

She exited her quarters, thinking she would go find Leia, before almost running straight into Rose.  “Nice,” her friend complimented her.  “Is that like formal wear for a Jedi?” 

“Sure,” Rey shrugged.  “Fill me in on what’s going on around here.”

A third of the systems previously represented in the Galactic Senate had come.  More representatives were said to be arriving, and Kylo Ren had made a huge formality of meeting with General Organa-Solo.  

She’d seen.  

“Of course, there is widespread speculation as to whether you are here,” Rose told her.  “Leia didn’t tell him yesterday.” 

“I think I will stay inside,” she said faintly, as very suddenly a rush of emotions hit her, tugging at her through the Force.  Not him.  “There will be crises to be averted.  I will need a place to meditate, where Poe can figure out what to do.” 

“He is through here,” Rose looked worried.  “What is it?”

“Unrest on Bothan,” she paused, searching out the unfamiliar feelings, discerning the names of places she had never seen.  “An attack on Naboo.” 

She sat down on the floor in the bridge, ignoring Poe as Rose spoke to him, deeply embedded inside the fluctuations of the Force.  She could see the lights of Coruscant, a place she couldn’t even begin to fathom.  She didn’t try to.  The number of souls below was vast, but she was untroubled.  Others needed her, and she couldn’t catch it all.  She suddenly realized how he must feel, leading, gauging the feelings of the men he led, the fleets he commanded. 

She carefully avoided reaching out to him.  They both needed focus, clarity today. 

Leia came in around lunchtime, to tell them that votes were being cast in all the represented systems and any First Order controlled worlds not represented.  Rey’s vigil had prevented bloodshed on at least three occasions, preserved the integrity of the elections at least once. 

The team on the bridge skirted her, their emotions barely registering in her consciousness.  She continued to dwell on the lights of Coruscant, allowing the Force to guide her mind.  

Rey meditated well into the evening, finally she had a moment to ask Leia if she had seen her son. 

“No,” Leia’s smile was tight.  “He wore his mask.  I felt his conflict, but he seems sure this will work.” 

The throne room returned that evening, but he did not.  Just whispers as before.  

He must be tired too.                                                           

The Galactic Senate met, and Leia decided she would stay, for now.  Rey was exhausted, but she went with her shuttle to the surface to say goodbye.  She was still wearing the robe, finding some comfort in the garment as she internally lamented being separated from Leia.  People had taken to calling her Commander Skywalker (why she deserved Luke’s title, she did not know) or Master Jedi. 

Leia still called her Rey. 

She watched from the view port as Leia was met by dignitaries, by – 

Her heart clenched, seeing him for the first time in over four months.  

She instinctively, reflexively reached out –

The bond roared to life, making the distance between them – for the first time since the throne room, perhaps only one hundred meters – minuscule.  

Immediately, she knew, he had not known.  

The presence of the other Jedi had snuffed her out.  He had assumed she had not come, he was hurt and frustrated and furious, but also pleased with how his project had turned out so far.  And now, seeing that she had come, that she had been here – he was confused, how had she hid from him?  But he was also elated to see her, desperate to touch her –

She took a deep breath, overwhelmed by this sensory overload.  Too tired to properly react.   

He stepped forward, a hand outstretched.  Now she reacted, she was aghast at his forwardness.  “Please,” the helmet distorted his voice, made her mindful of their audience, despite her lack of focus on them. “Join me.  Stay.”

She felt Poe and Rose behind her, both frozen in this moment with her.  Of course, they had not heard his words, but he must look quite the sight. 

She cleared her throat.  “I have something I must do.  And you still have much to prove.” 

She knew her emotions belayed her words, somewhat.  Under her calm exhaustion, she was truly happy to see him. His words felt so familiar, so natural, filled a void she hadn’t known had opened within her.  

A not insignificant part of her wanted to order them to reopen the gangway, to run to him.  To tear that mask off.  To show the world – Ben. 

His inhale was sharp, his desire stark and hot and uncontrollable. It washes through her like ripples on the lake that is her mind. He takes another step closer.  She remembers how his eyes had burned when she had seen him last. His hand meets her shoulder and it sends a shiver through her, his gloved palm like a brand. His thoughts are consumed by her kissing him on the platform, moments from now.  She is just as hungry and relentless as he is. The future flickers.  _Please_.  

But his hand jars her into Leia’s present, who looks at her sharply.  Rey knows Leia agrees.  It's too soon. 

“Commander Skywalker,” the captain’s voice sounded far away, and also nervous as hell.  “Are we cleared for takeoff, sir?” 

The question hung in the air a beat longer than she had meant it to.  She exhaled, allowing a fleeting thought of the impossible kiss to echo back to him, to appease him. 

“Yes.”

She turned, breaking the connection, looking at Poe and Rose, whose deep unease, shock were mirrored in his own men on the platform.  

She was once again aware of him, in the back of her mind.  He was equal parts hopeful and furious.  

“He isn’t moving,” Poe muttered.  “I was sure he would stop us.” 

“When we move out, plot this course, Captain,” Rey handed the man a holodisk, the one she had prepared with the help of Anakin.  

“We aren’t going back to base?” Rose was confused, and looked at Poe as if he would contradict her.  He did rank higher than her, after all. 

“I said, I have something I must do,” Rey told her.  “A slight detour.” 

In her mind, she saw him, his outstretched hand clenching into a fist. He was still burning, yearning for her, certain that she was closer than ever.  He spoke again, out loud – so many could hear him! – “I will never stop looking.”

 _I know_ , she thought at him, somewhat exasperated.  Cutting him off, but not quite successfully, she felt him reigning in his anger, turning back to Leia, standing on ceremony.  

She refocused on her friends, the captain.  The task at hand.  

Poe did not question her orders.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Team: I want to thank all of you for taking this journey with me! I am having a very good time exploring Rey as a strong female character, and I really appreciate all of your comments. 
> 
> Apologies that this chapter was mostly plot (and an exercise in one of my deepest wishes for the franchise). We will get back to the main event shortly. 
> 
> I started writing this fic because I saw Adam Driver in a play - Burn This - and he killed it. It made me rethink Kylo Ren and how he could fit together with Rey, as she deserves. I just rewatched the Phantom Menace, which, by the way, holds up better than expected (aside from the shockingly racist tropes) and Amidala is such a freaking badass in that movie. She is like fuck all y'all bitches I am going back to my planet to either save or die with my people. And she is stone cold! And a crack shot! And totally calm and collected while in the middle of a firefight, executing a near-flawless plan that she came up with herself. 
> 
> Everyone who has written a Star Wars film since that movie would have done well to study her character is what I am saying.
> 
> End rant.


	5. If I Could Do It On My Own

When they returned to the flagship, she moved with concentrated distraction past Poe, striding toward her quarters with a single mindedness she thought would deter him.  It did not deter Rose, who was almost jogging to keep up with her.  “That sounded hard,” her friend observed once they were out of earshot.  

Rey blew out an explosive breath – he was very focused on his mother, he didn’t even seem aware that she was with him, slightly – “Very,” she agreed. 

“What did he say?”

“Please,” she ground out.  “Join me.  Stay.  The usual.”

 “The usual!”  Rose sounded breathless.  “Stars, he is a lot.  Doesn’t it wear you down?”

“You’ve no idea,” Rey exhaled, finding talking about this as if it were normal surprisingly pleasant. 

“In front of all those people!”

“Not sure how he is going to explain that.”  She paused.  “It’s the incessant begging that is so tiring.  I didn’t think him capable.  And once he found that he was, he hasn’t stopped.”

“I wouldn’t have imagined,” Rose’s eyes were wide.  “Him!  The Supreme Leader!  Begging!”

“It does sound like nonsense,” Rey muttered, in what sounded like agreement. 

Nonsense.  A thousand life times ago, beneath an unforgiving sun where the dunes shifted below her feet, she would not have believed that her solid ground would someday be an indelible and invisible river of power flowing through her, connecting her to the Supreme Leader of the First Order.  A thousand suns ago, she had not even known his name.

Rey’s comm beeped as they stepped into her room.  “Commander, the course has been laid.  We will arrive at 18:00 hours tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, Captain.  Please notify me when we arrive.”

Rose eyed her warily.  “Will you sleep?”  This jerked Rey sharply out of her thoughts, and her gaze toward her friend was perhaps a touch too glaring.  Rose looked unabashed, but she still tilted her head in a conciliatory manner.  “Leia was concerned, she told me to keep an eye on you.”

“Ah.  Of course.”  Rey moved to stare out the viewport, down at the city of a world.  She found him in the set of her shoulders, the way she unconsciously clasped her hands behind her back, and she quickly straightened, turning back to Rose.  “I might have to sleep now, while he is distracted.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“That is very kind,” Rey told her.  “But I doubt it.”

“What is it?”  Rose pried.  “Nightmares?” 

Rey was almost certain he couldn’t hear her.  The weight of the words rising in her throat made it hard to swallow them back.  Rose looked so concerned, felt like she would listen to anything, so genuine and warm and light.  The words spilled out in a flood.  “It used to feel like a nightmare.  I’m back in the throne room.  It’s burning.  Usually I can hear him, begging me to stay.”  She swallowed, and her hands clenched.  “Just like he did before I left him to go to Crait.”

Rose was silent as she digested this.  “Is he – is he there?”

“I think he was always there,” Rey muttered.  “For the first couple of months I wanted to believe it was my own mind playing tricks on me.  But he was trying to break through.”

Rose swallowed.  “This is why you can’t sleep?”

“I can sleep.”  And she needed to.  But – “Sometimes it just makes me more tired.  I’ve felt better over the last week.”

“Rey,” Rose stepped forward, wrapped her hands around Rey’s fists.  “Thank you for sharing this with me.  I know it must be hard.  Do you want me to stay?”

“Maybe some other time,” Rey untangled her fingers and drew Rose in for a hug.  “Thank you.”

Rey napped, undisturbed, and then rose to meditate. 

When he slept, she felt the pull of the throne room, but ignored him.  

She still heard it though.  That one word that screwed into her like the scream of an unfamiliar engine as a transport landed on Jakku. 

The hidden Jedi vessel was just where Anakin said it would be.  

“Commander Skywalker,” the captain really liked using this name.  Or it made him more comfortable.  The word “Jedi” unnerved some people.  “We have arrived at the coordinates.”

Rey exited her room with her pack, headed toward the hanger.  She’d folded her cloak and was dressed in her normal day wear – day wear that had slowly started to look more and more like tunics from the Old Republic – she knew what Jedi looked like now. 

She was testing space around them, testing the emotions of the crew, and sailed right past a number of people without acknowledging them, oblivious to the small crowd in the hangar as she stopped to stare into the void revealed by the opening hangar doors, visible through the field protecting them from the stars beyond.  

Rose and Poe were there, Poe was studying her intently.  She could feel his emotions clouding the air – admiration, always.  A tinge of desire.  Warmth.  “What will you do now, Jedi?”

“There is a ship here,” she told him.  “Lost from the Jedi Order of the Old Republic.”

“This makes a lot more sense now,” Rose grumbled.  “Not that I was questioning your sanity or anything like that.” 

Rey laughed.  It felt good.  

She concentrated, itching to find and deactivate the cloaking device.  To her surprise, it was more difficult than she expected. 

“Bring it in,” she murmurs, and it suddenly lit up like a beacon, almost startling her.  

She frowns as it comes in – the Force is sluggish and strong and strange around it.  She’s suddenly very unsure. 

It’s been awhile since she felt this wavering uncertainty –  in the cave? 

A flash of cold and howling wind, wisps of clouds and thin air drives through her.  A rattle of a ventilator echoes, a hum of a lightsaber falls.

She doesn’t realize when things start vibrating around her, when her brow and her teeth contour in something very like rage. 

The ship settles, but the doors don’t budge.  A couple minor things – a crate, a wrench – clink experimentally against its hull, bouncing dully to the floor.  

This was going to be much harder than she had thought.

Despite Rose’s periodic nagging, Rey wasn’t sleeping much.  She was careful to nap when he was in meetings, which wasn’t hard.  The lack of the throne room seemed to weaken their bond – he didn’t appear to her but even though she was ignoring him, she could feel his frustration.  

They’d been back for a week – two weeks? – when Finn came to try to talk to her.  

“Hey, Rey,” he said cautiously.  “Any luck with the ship?” 

Rey was not exactly tired.  In some ways, she was resting better than she had before.  In other ways, her body was exhausted from staying away from him, on top of the various exercises and power drains she was performing.  Missing him.  Hearing that word in her waking hours, her silent vigil.  She was immensely frustrated because the length of each day told her something she already knew. 

She growled, “Of course not. I’ve been set up.”

Finn looked confused, and Rey felt an uncharacteristic flash of irritation.  “What do you mean?”

“The Jedi who told me where it was want me to talk to –” she is suddenly very sure she cannot say his name. “Talk to him. I need his help.”

Finn’s breath sucked through his teeth so loudly, Rey winced and his exhale was just as loud.  “This makes sense now.”

“What?” Rey snapped, her voice sounding unused in her own ears.  

She blinked, catching the irritation this time and turning it over carefully, like a piston part she’s never seen before.  Had she spoken to anyone this week?  Rose, each morning.  “Morning” was a lose term.  

Is this normal, she thinks suddenly, reaching out through the Force, feeling for assurance.  And she’s thought it too loud and she can feel him stirring there in the back of her mind. 

“You made everyone a little nervous, is all.”

She pulls hard on the thread that connects her to Luke, and he deigns to come, to stave him off.  

“One moment, Finn,” she breathed. 

Luke was grinning at her, and she gritted her teeth.  She’d spent days – eleven? – combing through the holocrons he’d left her – the suggested skim digest of a month evaporating as she applied herself with vigor (and very little sleep).  She was not done.  Perhaps she would never be done.

“Master Luke,” she said, half for Finn’s benefit so that he would know why she needed a moment.

“How is that ship treating you, Rey?”

“You know damn well what’s happening here,” she grits out.  “What happened to ‘he is too far gone, anger leads to the dark side’?”

“Things change, my young padawan,” he is still grinning.  “It’s time for you to make your own mistakes now, kiddo.”

“You know what will happen if I go to him.”  She is under no delusion that Luke is not aware of the desires of his former and current padawans. 

She is not ashamed of her feelings.  She was a luminous being, but she was also crude matter, and she embraced both aspects of herself.  Her mind was fulfilled and at peace, one with the Force.  Her body only would be once she was with – she stopped her jumbled thoughts before they summoned his name, summoned him.

“I do,” Luke nodded, looking more somber.  “The Jedi were wise.  Perhaps not in this way.” 

“I will change that tradition,” Rey told him.  Final warning, Master. 

“Change is healthy,” Luke answered.  “If only someone had told me that.”

She smiled at him, her anger momentarily forgotten.  He left before she felt it tightening her neck again. 

She turned back to Finn.  “Well. At least he didn’t try to deny it.”

Finn didn’t look amused.  “Don’t you think you need some sleep?”

Rey laughed, despite his lack of levity, laughed at his very real thought that she was losing her mind.  “I’m not crazy, Finn.  Luke and his father set me up, that’s all.  I can’t get into the ship without . . . Help.” 

“You mean, him.”

“Yeah.”  Rey glared at the ship. 

“What did you mean, when you told Luke that he knows what will happen if you see him?”

Rey swallowed.  She wouldn’t say it out loud yet.  “I think you know too.”

Finn was still.  “Poe is going to be really pissed.”

Rey shrugged.  “He’ll get over it.”

“Why don’t you come eat dinner?” Finn asked. 

She agreed, and realized that she hadn’t moved much from her territory – the large grassy expanse on the incline just off the path between the main hangar and the bridge – since she had arrived from space, days ago.  She’d been back to her quarters for the ’fresher and not much else.  She’d napped and ate on the hill next to her new ship – which barely fit into what had once been her field.  

She’d absentmindedly pulled on her robe, and as she walked through the base to the main canteen, she wasn’t entirely oblivious to turned heads, sudden silence.  This hadn’t happened in a while.  Her lightsaber – Luke’s lightsaber, Anakin’s lightsaber – was heavy against her thigh.  

“It’s like they haven’t seen a Jedi Knight before,” she said lightly to Finn, the anger still working through her muscles, showing in the fingers that now clasped around the hilt, needing to distract herself.

Finn scowled at her.  “I don’t think you realize what you look like in that.  It’s like a legend, come to life.  It’s incredibly disconcerting.”

Rey grinned at him, her muscles trying to relax.  “You find me disconcerting?”

Finn spluttered and Rey noticed that Finn was lying.  The edges and lines of the feelings around her were wary and awed.  Wary.

Rey spotted Rose carrying two trays of food out of the canteen toward them before Finn collected himself and waved.  “Commander!” Rose smiled.  “I was about to come to you.  Are you joining us?”

Rose’s emotions were unchanged.  No wariness there.  She followed her into the canteen.

Rose chattered about the gossip on the holonet.  Finn blushed when she touched his hand.  Rey hid a smile beneath her hand – this hadn’t changed.

Neither had Poe, who sauntered in with a completely transparent air of coincidence.  He and Finn had been trying to join her for lunch as they usually did, but she hadn’t realized how much she had been ignoring them.  He looked just as concerned as Finn, asked her if she was alright once he came over to sit with them.  The concern wafted through her like sand, gritty and everywhere.

Rey was tired.  She slipped, as Poe smiled that easy smile at her, wondering if one day, he might smile at her here.  Together.  

A mistake, of course.  She felt the yawning darkness of space at her back before she knew that he was there, somewhere behind her.  

His emotions were chaotic as always, but they curled around her like a cat would welcome its master home.  His anger was heavily veiled by a sense of relief so strong, she couldn’t quite discern it for a moment.  For a moment it had felt like need, like protectiveness.  Like panic.

What had he been so worried about? 

Rose had just asked her a question about a quarry she had meant to start on, but hadn’t.  She tried to focus on her friend, telling her that she wasn’t sure when she would start. 

But –

His hands landed heavily on her shoulders, and she actually started, surprising herself with her own shock.  She had half expected him to prowl around and ignore her.  Maybe he was busy.  Instead, he leaned into her, his forehead resting on the top of her head, tension washing from him in waves.  

“Rey,” he groaned, his fingers squeezing gently, she could feel him shake against her.  “Rey.”

She didn’t understand what was wrong.  

“Please, where are you?” His breath was ragged next to her ear, sending a spike of fear through her for the necessity, the urgency in him.  “Please don’t do this to me again.”

The relief was about her?!  She was perfectly fine. 

“You feel thin, and tense,” he told her sharply.  “You do not feel fine.”

She mumbled under her breath, “What is wrong?”

The anger spiked a bit, but the relief was holding strong, enveloping her, warming her, choking her.  “I couldn’t see you, but I could feel you.  Weaker and weaker each day.  You’re not sleeping.”

Well.  That was true.

“Please, Rey.” The words are fervent, and his hands knead into her shoulders, making her stretch.  She is very tense.  His fingers are strong and sure and warm and why had she been avoiding him?  Pleasure sparks from the points of contact through her consciousness.  She is too calm to hide it.  

Her pleasure does something to him, pulls at the darkness and the buried anger and a sudden, sharp flare of possessiveness.  She is shocked when he buries these flares, like they almost didn’t exist.  He is focused, even though his breath is still stuttered.  “Please.  Sleep tonight.” 

“Poe,” she asked suddenly, and his fingers tighten into her at the name, this breath is more than ragged, it is rasped and buzzing with the anger.  “What are you all avoiding telling me?”

The conversation had sort of slid to a stop around her when she had quietly said she wasn’t sure about the quarry. 

Poe, Finn, Rose, a couple others were staring at her.  

He is listening.  He wants to know, too.

Poe cleared his throat.  “In the flagship hangar, you drained all the small crafts of fuel, energy.  Here, the shield generator won’t work, it hasn’t rained in ten days, but there has been lightning, fog.  Despite the weather, the crops are flourishing, erratic – we’ve had an early harvest, new growth.”

His breath is hot against her cheek.  “This imbecile should have dragged you inside three days ago.  I would have.  What happened?  Why are you doing this?” 

Rey reached out carefully this time, past him, into her world beyond.  Cataloguing the ties in her hold.  Thinking of the experiments, the meditations she had tried.  Hm.  

The environs Poe described made sense.  She hadn’t meant it, but based on what she had read, it was possible.

“Why didn’t you try to stop me?” Rey asked instead. 

“Jedi,” Poe breathed out the word reverently, and she hears the hiss in her ear, tenses as his teeth scrape against the shell.  “This is your world, I wouldn’t tell you how to live in it.” 

“I’d have done,” Rose piped in.  “I was overruled.  Sorry.”

The energy she had consumed, the energy she had bled back out.  It wasn’t enough.  

She knew what she had to do. 

His teeth closed down harder, she involuntarily arched slightly, gripping the table.  The anger was flaring, the desire, overruling the concern, relief.  “I’d have stopped you, if you were here.”  His voice painted the feeling, a moment where they were together.  She melted into it, thinking of that warmth, thinking, I could be there.  With him.  His tongue rasped over her earlobe, sensing her wavering, her thawing toward him.  He growled, “If you were here, I would have tied you to our bed, if I had to.”

Her mind instantly became the ocean, the eddy formed by his words inconsequential among the waves.

“Luke could have told me,” she informed Rose.  “That he did not indicates that perhaps he thought I should work it out of my system.”

His deep frustration at being unable to see her, touch her over the last week and more bleeds into her as one large hand cups her neck, the thumb rubbing stubborn knots out of her spinal cord.  Trying to get another rise out of her.  “Is this my fault?” His voice is hollow, furious.  “Are you trying to punish me?”

“Anything we can do to help?” Rose asked.

Rey smiled at her.  Rose was so kind.  “No.  I have someone I need to talk to.”  She took a breath.  “Kylo Ren.”

His shock at this turn of events stilled his hands for a moment.  Silence blanketed the table.

“I’ve heard he’s been screaming in his sleep,” Finn blurted out. 

“I heard he left, looking for you, three days ago,” Rose chimed. 

“You can’t be serious,” Poe growled, putting both hands on the table in front of him with an unnecessary amount of force.  “Kylo Ren?  What could he offer you?”

“Everything,” his answering growl is sharp and sure and unwavering.  “Exactly what you need. Whatever you want from me.  A galaxy.  Power.  One night.  Anything.”

His teeth scraped at her right shoulder and she shuddered.  He liked this, moving his lips against her skin, his teeth nipping, his tongue searching.   

“I need another Force user,” she told him.  “A strong one, like me.” 

The anger surged.

Poe still looked very annoyed.  “How do you know he will help you?  You can’t bring him here.”

“Tell me where you are,” his voice is even, measured.  His tongue lashes out, sucking at her skin and she has to bite her lips.  “Please.”

“I won’t,” she promised, standing suddenly, mostly dislodging him.  “I need to get some sleep.  Sorry about – whatever has been happening.”

“Wait, Rey –” 

“Later,” she called over shoulder, making a beeline for the door. 

His steps are heavy next to hers; he still has a hand on her neck, his elbow resting along her shoulder blade.  He has withdrawn slightly, it is harder for her to read him, but she instantly regrets it when she meets his gaze for the first time.  Nothing is hidden in that expressive gaze – and his want is painted clear for her to see.

Maybe someday they could walk like this in public.  But in her territory, around her friends – he would never touch her like this.  His thumb brushes against her skin and just that small motion jolts her.

She turns away, but does not shrug him off as she walks beside him.

“Where are we going?” He finally asks her. 

“Apparently I need to sleep,” she mutters.  

The corridor was loud and he fell silent.  She glances sidelong and his gaze is darting around, taking in the people around them – but this was just a throughway, nothing secret or special. 

His demeanor changed suddenly, and he stopped, causing her to pause, drifting out of the way of traffic. “Yes, General.  I will be with you in just a moment.”

His eyes slid to hers, the hand gently spanning the back of her neck squeezing briefly. “I have to go.  You really are sleeping?” 

“Yes.”

He didn’t release her, but he took her hand and brought it to his lips, eyes smoldering.  “I will see you soon.  We have much to discuss.” 

He was gone.


	6. I Have a Job To Do

She monitored him briefly, as she always did, as she made it to her room, but it seemed safe. 

She sat down heavily on her cot, her mind spinning now that he was gone and she could think.   After the relief had faded – he was going to be angry again tonight.  He must be angry at her for leaving him on the platform, and his anger had been unmistakable when she said she needed him because of his Force sensitivity, not for . . . some other reason. 

His anger was dangerous because it burned as hotly as his passion, stoked his desire.  

Dangerous.  Made it hard for her to think, anything she could do to remain calm, gently riding the ocean waves.

_I would have tied you to our bed, if I had to._

Whenever he said things like this, it was like opening a window to a future becoming clearer and clearer, more real by the day.  

His relentlessness was paying off.  She’d been waiting for the future to waver, for him to waver – because while she had faith in herself, in her ability to fight and scrabble and build and wrestle her way out of the hole he had dug for them, she could not depend on him.  Not yet.  She could only control her own emotions, reactions.  She could not depend on him for her own happiness, safety, sanity. 

One day.  Maybe soon.  But she had been working on establishing those things for herself.

It was becoming increasingly apparent that he was rubbish at acting independently of her. Well, that wasn’t entirely true.  It seemed that he was trying to impress his mother, trying to help fix the wrongs Snoke had committed in the galaxy.  It seemed like he wasn’t just doing it for her, that he was trying to remember what right and wrong looked like.

So he had changed.

And apparently, the future wasn’t going to waver.

She was going to have to move very carefully then.  She wasn’t about to just capitulate and let him do whatever he wanted – he did not deserve that yet, and, if she was being honest, she enjoyed watching him squirm.  Enjoyed watching him tie himself in knots trying to please her.

This was also a bit of a surprise.  She smirked.  It was nice being alone in her head.  Recognizing her own desires, thinking about him as not just a risk, but someone who could fit into her life.

She’d keep the door locked.  She’d see how he behaved himself.  And maybe she could indulge, just a little.

She’d meant what she had said.  He still had much to prove.  And she had a job to do.

That she needed him to complete this job was no surprise, and did not alter her resolve. 

She eased into a meditative pose, taking stock of her body.  Her muscles were a bit sore and tight, but the tension was easing now that she was relaxing.  The past ten days had been hard on her muscles, but she had never felt calmer, more focused. 

_You are ready._

It was Anakin’s voice, and she was not feeling charitable.

_We will discuss the Jedi trials, in the morning before you go to meet my grandson._

Oh.

That should be interesting.

She showered and uncharacteristically slept in simple sleep pants and just a breast band. 

Ammunition.

When she arrived in the throne room, she knew that she had slept for hours, maybe twelve or more, and the rest had settled into her skin. 

He wasn’t there. 

Rey paced around the circumference of the room, her fingers trailing through harmless flames.  No blood.  No bodies and disarray.  Just the flames.  She paused by the viewport, imagining the remnants of the fleet, bits of pewter strewn across an uncaring void.

Stars he was dumb.  So many lives lost.  So much vengeance and hate, and for what?  A scared little boy who didn’t want to believe that he had been played, abused.  A wounded animal, lashing out.  He’d known nothing but pain.  Rey couldn’t blame him, exactly, and she didn’t, or she wouldn’t be here, in this room, stuck in a past moment that had imploded. 

She thought he was still adjusting to life without the pain, that he expected her to hurt him, that he couldn’t see past his relentless pursuit, not really.  Just that he needed purpose after all that pain and she was that for him.

She didn’t want to hurt him.  He’d suffered lifetimes.

But.  She was sure doing anything against his will would hurt him.  So if she had to hurt him, then that was his own stubborn, inflexible fault.

The word snaked through the air, stirring flames and giving her a heartbeat of warning. 

He was silent, a shadow behind her that she could see on the edge of her vision. 

Where to begin.

She turned, clasping her hands in the relaxed, meditative pose she had come accustomed to.  She was calm.  She was an ocean.  But still, her heart fluttered, her breath caught in her throat.  In this moment, she let herself think.  He is beautiful.  But she was in control.  “Kylo Ren.”

His eyes were narrowed into slits, a muscle working along his clenched jaw.  He was wearing his sleepwear, the loose slacks and simple sleeveless top that showcased his broad shoulders.  Anger, radiating off him in waves.  Implacable.  Resolved. 

Resolved?

She could tell, not just by the tenor of his feelings, but also by the strain in his corded neck, the steel of his arms and clenched fists that he was exerting an enormous amount of self-control in staying where he was.  Did he want to fight her?  Kiss her?  She couldn’t tell.

She watched him watch her. 

He didn’t rise to the bait, he waited. 

“I’m sorry I made you worry.”  The tic in his jaw worked, she had to fight the urge to swallow nervously.  She was.  Sorry.  She’d needed the time alone, but she wasn’t alone any more.  She’d forgotten, sucked in.

“I’ve been working on a project, and I’m used to ignoring everything else when I am working. I’ve found a Jedi ship, from the Old Republic.”  He exhaled, and she exhaled with him, some of the tension draining from her shoulders.  “I cannot gain entry.”  He jerked his head into a nod.  “Will you come?”

Her directness had surprised him.  He began to pace, in tight controlled spirals, never moving closer, never removing his gaze from hers.  She waited. 

The resolve was beginning to unnerve her.

“You have to understand,” he finally gritted out, his teeth still clenched, his stride rigid, tense.  “This is hard for me.  I am used to being obeyed.”  Her breath hitched again, buffeted by the strength of that word, his power.  “I am not used to having an equal.” 

She sighed as he continued to pace.  Progress. “I appreciate that.”

His eyes were burning, and her own hands were clenched now.  “Do you?  I humble myself before you, I exist, at your pleasure.  You know I will come.” She couldn’t hide the satisfaction, the swift punch of success.  He bared his teeth, lunging forward before he stopped himself, “You must stop doing this to me.  I have conditions.”

“Doing what?” She exhaled, her breath cutting through the heat like steam. “You’re the insistent one.  Relentless.”

“You have to stop teasing me.”  He was stock still, his muscles rigid.  “I ask that you treat me as an equal."

She turned inward considering.  Hm.  Perhaps she did not see him as such.  “I respect you, if that is what you mean.”

“Then you will respect that I will not do this for you without something in return?”  His hands clenched, unclenched. She was momentarily distracted, she thought for a moment, what might it be like?  Those fingers, curling inside, making her scream.

His tenseness broke, he moved toward her again, two quick strides.  She became very still, and he stopped, his hand outstretched.  “This is what I mean,” he breathed. “I know your mind, what you will show me of it.  I know you want me, I feel these moments when you indulge, you think of me giving you what you want.  And yet, you shut me out, you refuse to see me.  You tease me.  Please.  Give me an opportunity to prove myself.  If you respect me, you will.”

She considered these words.  How mature.  Interesting.  A constructive use of his anger.  “What are your conditions.”

He crooked his fingers, beckoning her forward.  “I am not rejecting you,” she said carefully.  “I just do not know if touching you in this moment is a good idea.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” he breathed.  “I have to beg to differ.  Every moment I have where I can touch you is a gift.  Please.”

She closed the distance, suddenly confident in doing as he asked and she slid her hand into his.  He breathed deeply, his eyes closing.  She felt the deep satisfaction, the settling of the anger from within him.  He appeared to be keeping his desire in check, so it was easy to think, to allow his grip to center her. “If you want my help, you will come to me.  I am with my fleet, aboard my flagship in the Ryloth system.”

“You do not want to know where I am?” The words were out before she could think to retract them.  She was getting what she wanted, why question it?

“When I said I have conditions, it is not just my own feelings I am concerned with.  I also need my generals, my people to have faith in me. They need to see you.”

Her own anger flared.  “Why.”

His grip tightened, his anger responding in kind, heated.  “You will come.  You will board my ship. You will respect me as the leader of the Republic.  You will eat a meal with me, in front of my people.  Then we will go deal with your problem together.”

“I am not a trophy you can display.”

His nostrils flared.  “Certainly not one I have won,” he sneered.

She yanked their hands up, pushed against his chest.  “You’re infuriating!  How do you expect me to respect you if you’re like this in public?”

“I’ll behave if you will.”

She huffed, “I will not put on a show in front of an army.”

“You will,” he hissed.  “Or I won’t come.”

"I will come, you will greet me, we will leave,” she hissed back, her fingers tightening on his.  “With an escort.  Of your choosing.”

“I will grant you an audience,” his voice was low, cold.  “I will make you wait.”

“You will not make the Jedi wait.  Especially not the woman you have been chasing all over the galaxy for months.”

“You’re right – not in the throne room.”  He tightened his grip, leaned closer.  “I will make her wait for me in my quarters.”

“Absolutely not,” she gritted out, but she was drowning in his eyes, reflecting the fire that danced behind them.

“You’ll stay in my quarters,” he breathed, bringing their clasped hands up, touching his lips to the back of her hand.  “Everyone will know.”

“A far cry from a meal in front of your soldiers,” she could barely think, her mind an ocean, her desires hardly contained.

“I’ve changed my mind,” his growl rumbled against her skin, set her aflame.  “My quarters.  One night.  Or no deal.”

“Not on the Destroyer,” she snapped. “No one can know.”

“The Silencer,” his lips moved against her fingers.

It would be good to see him. 

“I’ll do anything you want,” all his muscles were tense again, and her free hand landed on his bicep, distracted by the strength, the control, the fury.  He growled when she touched him.  “Come to me.”

“Thirty-six hours.” She inhaled sharply.  “You will not touch me in public.”

“I will not kiss your palm in greeting,” the note of heat in his voice sank into her, echoed in her mind.  “I will not draw you close.”

His hand was on her waist. He brought his forehead to hers, breathing in.  “I will not take your kriffing infuriating mouth in front of my men.”

She clung to him as he nosed down her hairline, inhaling at her throat.  Danger, her mind screamed, fire.  You’ll get burned.  “I will think about how you look right now,” he mumbled along her pulse point.  “Ravishing.  Nearly naked for me.”  She was too distracted by his tongue to retort, he was doing something to her, swirling over her skin and it was stars and sunshine and desert heat. 

She tried.  “You –”  He bit down, his lips sucking and claiming, and her thought, if it had ever been one, ended in a gasp, a strangled moan.  He angled against her, sensing his advantage, wrapping his long fingers around her neck, pressing his thumb into her jaw.  “I will think about these moans,” he rasped, his teeth scraping again.  “I will think about how I finally have you, in the flesh.”

“We’ll see how you do,” she managed.  “You better not waste my time.”

He froze for a moment, clearly surprised by her words, and in that moment she woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just rewatched Revenge of the Sith and Solo. 
> 
> Revenge of the Sith is surprisingly good (total nerfing of Amidala aside), arguably better than 7/8 (don't at me) and Solo was like a romp but we all expected more out of Daenerys (not in terms of acting or even story arc, just like her behavior doesn't appear to be internally consistent). 
> 
> Also sorry this is taking me forever, I keep having different ideas or like trouble writing smut and things. I have like four or five more chapters written at least. Getting there. Thanks for your patience and encouragement :)


	7. If I Could Know Your Mind

She waited by her prized possession for his grandfather, wrapped in her cloak against the chill of her planet’s morning. 

She had fired off a couple messages to Finn and Rose, telling them to meet her before she left.  She hadn’t specified where she was going. 

Anakin appeared beside her, as she stared over the ravine at the bustle beyond.  “Like me, and my Master before me, you have already passed the trials through combat and unconventional means.  As you know, a Jedi must endure five trials to become a Knight.”

“Skill.  Courage.  Spirit.  Flesh.  Insight.” Her own voice sounded hollow and distant in her ears.  She knew Rose and Finn had come, she could feel their strength.  “You came here to tell me what I already know?”

He chuckled.  “Luke said you would not be happy.  He also faced his trials in an unconventional way.  But tradition exists for a reason.  Inside this ship is a training chamber.  You can modify it to recreate the chamber once used in the Jedi Temple.  If you wish to face the trials, you may.  But you will find them surmountable.”

She found herself unhappy.  She had been expecting hardship, had meditated and prepared for it. 

“Not every challenge must be a hardship,” Anakin told her steadily, his golden eyes boring into her.  “Though the one you are facing may be.”

Ah.  “Kylo Ren.”

“It is a challenge that would have once existed to qualify a Knight as Master.  Though, I do not think you need me to tell you that you already befit that title.”

She huffed, arms crossed, the Force high that made her calm but ethereal fading slightly.  “That’s enough of this conversation, thank you.”

“Commander Skywalker!” It was the pilot she had commissioned to rig the listless ship, one of Poe’s former squadron. “Oh.”

She turned just in time to see Rose and Finn gesturing angrily at the man, trying to keep him quiet.  “That’s alright,” she said easily.  She turned back to Anakin, who was smiling wryly.  “What?”

“Remembering the years I underestimated loyalty and prioritized power,” he shrugged.  “I don’t need to tell you again of the mistakes I made.  You won’t make them.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“But darkness awaits you,” he said, turning now to look at the ship.  “Be careful, Rey.  You live in the present, but you must be mindful of the future.”

She exhaled, feeling more like herself all of a sudden, less like the thing others saw when they looked at her.  “I am ready.”

“So was I, once,” he said ominously, folding his hands into his robe and then bowing slightly.  “May the Force be with you.”

She bowed back, power and a tinge of shadow making her neck tingle.  “Thank you, Master.”

She turned back to her friends, took the couple of respectful steps they had left between them.  “Jedi politics, very boring really.”

This made Rose and the pilot laugh, but Finn was too concerned to be amused.  “You can’t go alone.”

“She’s going to do it regardless of your opinion,” Rose was still laughing. 

“He is with an entire fleet!” Finn exclaimed, turning on Rose.  “What if he can’t control his men?  What if someone seeks revenge?”

This sobered Rose up quickly.  “They wouldn’t cross him.”

“I’d be fine even if they did,” Rey assured her. 

“You didn’t tell Poe?” Finn asked shrewdly.  “Worried he’d stop you?”

“I told him,” the pilot chimed in.  “Sorry, Commander.  I didn’t realize it was a secret.”

Rey rolled her eyes.  “He’ll survive.  I was going to comm him when I left.  Can you start working on the tractor beam, Harding?”

The pilot saluted and jogged off.

“Intelligence says your man is in the Ryloth system,” Rose informed her.  “Where did he want you to meet him?”

“There,” she murmured.  “Had some nonsense idea that his men should see me.  I committed treason, in their book.”

“Or an act of justified rebellion,” Rose reminded her.  “I am sure there were some loyal to the monster, but I have to imagine things are better now.”

“I haven’t really thought about his play.”  The future.  Something she needed to consider more.  “I’m powerful, and he respects power?  Snoke was weak, and therefore unfit to rule?”

“He has to have been successful with some sort of narrative, he has catapulted the Order back toward democracy,” Finn noted.  “I wouldn’t have thought it possible.”

“He’s quite charismatic,” Rey mumbled.

“Rey, this is still very dangerous,” Rose was deadly serious now.  “He might not be a threat to you, but he is still the Supreme Leader.  And aren’t there others like him?  Other . . . Knights of Ren?”

“Theoretically,” she murmured. 

The Force was silent. 

“I have to go,” she told them.  “I have a job to do.”

“Rebuilding the Jedi Order is not just a job,” Finn said angrily.  “It’s the undertaking of a lifetime.”

“Then I will be working for a long time,” she said calmly. 

“How do you know he will help you?”  Finn didn’t say it in the sharp way Poe would have.  He wanted to believe in her, but he was also afraid of Kylo Ren.

“He has to, or I will not keep the end of our bargain.”

“Finn, can you head off Poe, I want to speak with Rey for a moment,” Rose did not even look at him, her eyes never leaving Rey’s face.  “Please.”

Finn looked back and forth between them before skulking off in a huff. 

Rose said gently, “Do you want him?  You have a galaxy to choose from.  You don’t have to choose him.  Or anyone.”

The warmth radiating from this woman, her very soul, sank into Rey.  Her lifeforce was so bright, so strong.  She smiled in spite of the seriousness of the question.  “I am lucky to have a friend like you.”

“Rey, I am serious.  I am coming with you if you do not want this.”

“Don’t worry, Rose,” she thought of the future, the one where they stood together in a room, her fingers trailing through an indoor fountain and tangled in his.  “I do not just want it.  I can see it, as clear as I see you now.  I may not be ready to trust him, but I am prepared to face him.”  She took a deep breath, flashes of the night flitting through her mind, heat and abandon and his words etched in fire.  Her voice lowered.  “I’m even looking forward to it.”

“Be careful, Rey,” Rose said, echoing Anakin’s warning.  “But you also deserve to do what you want.”

Rey grinned at her friend, warmth spreading through her chest at the words of support. “I intend to.”

Rose grinned back.  “I hope that means what I think it means.”

Rey hugged her, suddenly overwhelmed. “Rose.  Thank you.  You help me remember that I’m not insane.”

“You’re the most sane person I know,” Rose promised.  “Hm.  Maybe I need more friends.”

Rey laughed and let her go, spying Poe over her shoulder.  “You do,” she said, but it came out clipped.  Poe’s mind was clear.  “Oh no.”

It was like Rose could see his mind too.  Her hand tightened on Rey’s arm.  “What can you do?”

Rey appreciated the simplicity of the question.  Rose was not misplacing a burden on her, not blaming her for this complication that had never been her fault.  She’d never encouraged Poe beyond treatment she would have given Finn.  And she loved Poe, in a way.  Having never had anyone to love before, she had attached herself quickly and securely to her family.  It felt good to care about so many people, to have them care about her in return.  To know that she didn’t need him.  She had made her own family. 

She wasn’t nothing.

And of course, her sudden unrest summoned him like a moth to a flame.

She immediately shut it all down, became still and serene.  A Jedi.  Untouched.  One with the Force. 

She motioned for Rose to stay silent before resuming her meditative pose, before turning to where Anakin had been only minutes before, where he was now standing, his hands clasped behind his back, his helmet on, his head bent. 

The bridge of a starship faded in behind him, and she said as his head snapped up, turning to see her.  “Now is not a good time.”

“She is not a fugitive, General,” his voice modulated, strangely calm.  He wasn’t calm.  Seeing her had surprised him, and he had been working on controlling his rage. She’d sped up the process. “She is a guest.”

Now Rey could see General Hux’s twisted sneer, feel the anger radiating off him in waves.  “Supreme Leader, I must remind you, if she really is as powerful as you say – ”

“She is not a threat to me or any of our men,” his voice had risen, out of the corner of her eye she saw a man at a console hunch closer to it. 

Meanwhile, Poe was approaching. 

She made a slight gesture at Rose, whose heart was beating out of her chest.  As much as her friend talked about Kylo Ren as if he were some teenage heartthrob, Rey knew that a shadow of doubt lived inside her.  That shadow had suddenly grown, twisted and ugly, into something that felt like fear.  Her friend was both perceptive and very brave. 

Rose turned, immediately went to head off Poe.  And, for now, he seemed focused on the problem presented by his general, not on Rey’s surroundings.

And a problem it was, now that Rey could feel Hux’s feelings, which were lashing out at his master like gale force winds. 

Hatred.  Jealousy.  Distrust.  Anger.  An edge of lust.

That was directed toward her. 

“Will she be staying aboard the ship?” Hux asked stiffly. 

“No,” Kylo Ren gritted out, and Rey could feel his anger continuing to rise. “But you will treat her with the same respect you show me while she is here.”

He’d caught the flicker of interest Hux had for Rey, he’d caught that his general had thought, “What could he see in this slip of a scavenger?”  But Hux had followed Snoke, was deeply magnetized by power, craved it, breathed it, begrudgingly admitted to himself that Kylo Ren had the ability to wield the power that he could not. 

Saw the attractiveness in a woman who could wield great power.  Saw Rey, saw her in both a delicate and hard way, in his mind saw the softness of her features, but also the lean muscle and lithe grace built from hours of hard work. 

Rey couldn’t pull herself out – she realizes now that he shielded his thoughts from her often, or that he did not fixate on the planes of her body, does not want her in the way a man, Hux, might want her – perhaps he thinks of her as an embodiment of power, and though his need is deep and unwavering, his desire to possess her is less about her and more about what she is. 

She spirals.

Hux is thinking for a moment, distracted by the Supreme Leader’s words, snippets of flesh and moans and his hand grabbing her ass, palming her breast, pinning her to a wall and the woman he sees in his mind likes it. 

She would.  If it were him.  She’d never seen such a thought in his mind.

Rose, her friend, her savior, snapped her out of it, pulling her from a depthless mind and back into the present, sunlit meadow.

“Rey!”  She had stumbled, the onslaught had unnerved her.  Rose had rushed back, grasped her by the arm, held her up.  “Are you well?”

“Yes.” The word came out stronger than she expected.  Half a moment had passed. 

Kylo Ren was hissing a threat in General Hux’s direction, his back ram rod straight, his hands clasped so tightly behind his back that the leather of his gloves was creased and surely biting into his flesh. 

She was not sure what he had felt from her. 

She was suddenly unsure of her power to read him. 

Back in the sun, with Rose, who believed so much in her, she was able to steady herself, to think that she could have some certainty.  In the light she had seen in him.  In his desire. 

He said things, that made her feel like his desire was not just power hungry, but carnal.  Perhaps he simply voiced such thoughts, perhaps he was careful with her or he did not daydream while with her. 

But he’d created that daydream in the stream. 

She tilted her head back, feeling the sun on her face, relaxed her shoulders.

She knew.

Rose squeezed her arm, reminding her where she was. 

She straightened, Poe’s hand on her shoulder.  Her eyes snapped open. 

Oh no.

“Rey,” his voice was strangled, jagged, shadows under his eyes.  “You’re going to meet him?”

“Yes.”  Her voice is still strong.  She looked over Poe’s shoulder, where he is still standing stock still.  “I am.  Don’t worry.”  She kissed him on the cheek.

Flashpoint.

His anger is as strong as her voice, an inferno with complexity and depth.  Burning for so long that the heat is impossibly strengthened, the edges are cooler and the colors are red and orange and blue.

Pain and longing and frustration and jealousy and desperation. 

He had been controlling himself when she appeared.  Her reaction to Hux had infuriated him, now Poe was there, his emotions painted across his face, no telethapy needed. 

It hit her with such a force, Poe melted away in the space between one breath and the next.  He did not speak – could not, with Hux still there – but the word is clear as day. 

Please.

The word is laced with the dance of the flames, the need and hunger and fury that was inside him.  It beckons her, and he thinks, _I want you.  I’ve told you.  These men are nothing compared to me._

She can’t see him behind the mask, and she feels blind, these imageless thoughts sweeping through her, with such power and drive.

Perhaps she is attracted to power too. 

Poe hadn’t noticed her distraction, it was so quick, and lips brushing her cheek in return shifted her focus. 

But he wasn’t finished.  _I regret that I only had fleeting moments with you.  That I barely touched you.  That Snoke had his hands on you.  That I didn’t listen to you._

“Rey.” The edge of Poe’s voice was so sharp, so jarring. “Please don’t do this.”

The edge of his thoughts is just as sharp.  _In the elevator, you were so tempting, hands bound, so trusting, I could have done anything to you. It took everything in me not to take advantage. Everything._

She tried to swallow, tried to give Poe a kind smile, but she is shaking slightly, she is breathless and flush with his heat.  “Poe.  I have to.”

_I’ve thought about what I should have done to you, what I could have done to you in that elevator so many times.  Come to me.  I’ll show you._

_I’m coming_ , she mentally snapped. 

 _You will._ Amusement, desire, that truly annoying gloating.

They both saw it only a half a heartbeat in advance, so quick was Poe’s decision. 

Rey didn’t have time to pull away.  She heard him, muffled by the modulator, torn from him, a low and furious, “No!”  But Poe was kissing her.  It was fine. 

She was keyed up. For the span of his strangled growl, she breathed it in, enjoying a touch for what it was.  Then she pulled back, as he was barking “Silence!” to Hux. 

 _Now you’ll know_ , the fury sank into her bones.  _You’ll see how he is nothing when you’re with me._

She exhaled.  _We'll see._

She cleared her throat.  “Poe – ”

His eyes were clear, jaw set.  “Something for you to think about.”

“Thank you.  But I think you know I’ve made up my mind.”

The incoherent rage settled at these words, eddied. _Please_. 

“I will be here when you get back,” the determination had not wavered.  “If you need me, I will be there.”

 _Please_.

“That is very kind,” she reached for Rose, who was looking aghast.  “Thank you all for bearing with me.”

 _Please_.

Now he was issuing orders, ones that did not pertain to her, and she was relieved.  She felt him pulling away, trying to break the connection.  He wasn’t successful. 

Poe walked her to where Harding was working on the rig.  She had to endure him pacing in the background like a caged tiger, valiantly trying to pay attention to his men and not to her, for what felt like eternity before the connection broke. 

Rose was waiting, holding a few things for her, shifting from side to side.  “Is he gone?” She hissed as Rey finally relaxed.

“That obvious?”

“Just to me,” Rose whispered, trying not to draw the attention of Poe or Finn or Harding.  “He freaked out?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Rey muttered.  “He said Poe is nothing compared to him.”

Rose stifled a laugh.  “Men.  They’re all the same.”

This startled an actual laugh from her.  Huh.  “For a moment I was doubting that he was – but you’re right.  He is much the same.”

“What are you going to do about this ship?” Rose asked, turning to take in the craft. “It’s terrifying.”

“Once I get it open, I am hopeful that it will have the curricula that I need to start teaching younglings,” she admitted.  “Wait.  Terrifying?”

Rose blushed.  “Because you can’t open it.”

Rey stared at her.  “There are many things I cannot do.”

Rose rolled her eyes.  “Remember how you changed the bioclimate of an entire planet last week?  Good talk.”

For a moment, Rey reconsidered bringing Rose with her.  She’d rather enjoy glaring down General Hux, telling stories about Rey that Rey found unremarkable or, in this case, accidental.

But.  She desperately needed to see him alone. 

“I leave my reputation in your capable hands,” she snorted, clasping Rose on the shoulder.  “Do not hesitate to contact me.”

“And if something goes wrong?”

_“Hard to see the future is.  Always changing.”_

And yet, on her planet, as calm as the lake her river flowed into. 

“If you stay here, you’ll be fine.”

Something prickled at the back of her neck, and a segmented hallway she had seen once in a vision flashed into her consciousness. 

Her hand reflexively tightens on her lightsaber – the spark of that vision – and she is there, in an echoing expanse of darkness with a harsh breath in her ears and the cold of a reactor chamber in her bones.  The blade hums in the darkness and it is met by light stained by blood and ruin. 

A trap.

_“Release your anger.  Only your hatred can destroy me.”_

She refocused on Rose, a pain that could only be Luke’s pulling at her chest, stealing her breath. 

A warning.

“But.  Please stay here until I return.”

She felt Rose’s confidence in her spring forward like a blaster bolt with deadly aim.  It obliterated the remnants of the thin atmosphere from the past in her chest.  “I will.”

She glanced back at the ship, and something from the vision returned, the feeling of darkness and metal and ice. 

She shivered.  It was time to leave.

Harding had finished the rig.  He and another pilot were performing a final flight check on her small craft, “Are you certain about going alone?” This time it was Finn.  “And you won’t take the _Falcon _?”__

The mention of the _Millennium Falcon _did give her a twinge of guilt, like hearing Han scream his son’s name across an insurmountable chasm, wider than a simple, deadly, reactor shaft.  A rend torn in the psyche of a child by an evil his father had not imagined he would have to face twice in his lifetime.__

 

A Sith by any other name is still a Sith.

 

“The _Falcon_ will only serve to anger the Order,” she breathed, the feeling of loss brought by the memory and the Force twining about her friends present and pointed.  “And I need to go alone.”

 

“Not even an honor guard?”

 

She had considered.  An honor guard would show power, deference, command.

 

But going alone would also command respect.  And an honor guard would hinder her ability to be with him, alone.

 

She didn’t need to put on a show.

 

She remained mindful, but nothing stirred now, no warning with respect to the path she was on.

 

“Alone.”  She repeated.  Poe’s jaw tightened.

 

She’d left it too long.  People were starting to come out of the hangar, perhaps heard that she was leaving. 

 

She turned to ascend the gangway a second before Harding called out that she was clear, shrugging off yet another query as to whether she was quite sure she didn’t need a copilot.

 

She smiled down at her friends as the gangway closed.  “May the Force be with you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched Rogue One again and I once thought that the movie was narratively flawed but other than being a bit rushed it has all the hallmarks of a great Star Wars movie - the Force, family drama, the might of true evil, and a Skywalker. Haven't watched the Mandalorian yet, but looking forward to it. 
> 
> Next chapter finally merits an explicit rating. TBD.


	8. I Won't Wait Anymore

Flashes of the past and future washed over her as she meditated and listened to more of the holocrons Luke had left her during the long hours in space. 

Her computer trilled two hours from his fleet.  She dropped from hyperspace by an uninhabited planet where she had decided to leave the Jedi craft in orbit, cloaked.  She spent the remainder of the journey stretching, moving slowly through different forms.  Learning.  Thinking. 

How easily this pace now came to her, when months ago she had worn herself to exhaustion just to sleep.

She came out of hyperspace inches from his flagship.

Almost immediately, the crew went into red alert – she could see the lights and hear the proximity alarm, the shouting, without even exerting herself. 

She hung in front of the main viewport as he blazed into her consciousness with the subtlety of a juggernaut.  Just as when she had seen him for the elections, her reflex was to reach out, feel him, he was _close_. 

She did not.  But she could still see him.

He’d been awaiting her arrival, the set of his shoulders, his hands clasped behind his back in a way she knew so well, on the bridge.

He had not flinched. He had called off the alert moments after it had begun.

The radio crackled, but she ignored the words, listening to him as he commanded his men to stand down, as he ordered a bay open. 

She had already started towards it.

She rose as her ship piloted itself into the hangar, barely needing to think to steer it clear, securing her lightsaber to her waist, grabbing her small pack, adjusting her cloak.  She was concentrating on the threats around her – but all was still.

Barring his maelstrom. 

“Master Jedi,” crackled over the radio.  “Apparently you’ve already discerned where to land.  You are clear.”

Rey resisted the urge to sneer at Hux’s voice.  That man was the architect of genocide and his day of reckoning would come.

Not today.  Today she had to play nice. 

She felt him moving from the bridge to the hangar, his life force sparking through the ship.  Now, with nothing to distract her, she opened her mind.

He was guarded, more so than usual.  The anger was lurking below the surface, but his resolve was strong.  He could not completely contain his smugness that she was here, nor could he contain his desire, which licked at the edges of his thoughts, her mind.   

She was calm and still, but it was difficult.  The fire called to her, an old friend. 

She would follow his lead, if it suited her. 

And if it suited her, she was ready to crack the door in her mind that she had been striving to shut.

Anticipation. 

She flicked her wrist to engage the landing sequence and lower the gangway.  Another thought, and her flight path was erased. 

A squadron awaited her, forming a corridor from her landing pad, in the middle of which General Hux waited, anger and distaste – she knew better – furrowing his brow. 

He strode out into the hangar. 

It took everything in her to remain standing, motionless, in the mouth of her ship.  Here he was, nothing separating them.  Not leagues of space, or plexiglass or flames.  His presence pushed against her, insistent, sure. 

Nothing like the throne room.  Nothing like the fights under the sun of her planet.  She’d forgotten what it was like, close to him.

The way he walked, so confident and sure, here in the now, those broad shoulders, straining against the fabric of his uniform – but of course there was the hated helmet.

The Force rippled between them, and she inhaled carefully.  Guarding herself, because seeing him had stolen her breath.  She wanted him to follow through on his promises, wanted him. 

Focus.  The ocean roiled.

She waited until her ship had settled to sweep down the gangway, shutting down the engine and running the cooling sequence.  She felt a ripple of surprise, bordering on consternation from him as he realized she had been piloting the ship. 

She felt a flash of annoyance.  He had underestimated her. 

The fire burned her throat as he neared.  She would make him pay. 

Hux joined him as he strode toward her, so she stopped when she reached the hangar floor.  The vibrations of the _Supremacy_ trembled through her, and she inhaled, tasted the confusion, the resolution of his men.  Some were terrified of her.  Others were hopeful or disdainful or skeptical.  Grateful. 

Hux was still deeply disgruntled.  He inclined his head.  “Master Skywalker.  Welcome.”

She ignored him, staring at the mask. 

Skywalker.

“May I present the Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren.”

He had the audacity to bow, and she felt tension and shock emanating through the squadron.  The shock was not quite as strong as she thought it could be.  “My lady,” he breathed through the modulator. 

She wanted to slash that stupid helmet to bits.  She wanted his skin beneath her finger tips.

“Ready my ship,” he told Hux, who saluted.  “This way,” he rumbled, gesturing her forward. 

She matched his stride through the hangar, her hands firmly tucked into her sleeves, where they wouldn’t do anything rash.  She couldn’t see the helmet around the edge of her hood, and for this she was grateful. 

None of the soldiers were following them, so she breathed, “I hate the helmet.”

She saw his fingers twitch out of the corner of her eye as they exited through the corridor at the back of the hangar.  The back of her neck tingled.  Her focus was straying, her emotions strong and steady and true. 

 _I thought it a necessary precaution, in front of my men._ The timbre of his thoughts was wry.  _I did not want them to see how you affect me._

“How do I affect you?” she breathed again.  Too quiet to hear, but of course he still did.

He rounded a corner, stopped before the door to a lift.  “In every way.”  The words were harsh, grating to her ears.  “Right now, I am being crushed by the weight of your indifference.”

So she was better at shielding her mind than she had been.  Indifference?  Even with his helmet on, all she could think of was running her fingers through his hair, seeing his expressive eyes and frustrating mouth.  Digging her nails into his shoulders.  Feeling his lips against her throat.  The fire was making it hard for her to breath around it. 

She did not move a muscle, remembering what he had said about their last trip in an elevator.

_I could have done anything to you._

He held the door for her, and she entered. 

As the lift hissed shut, she realized she didn’t want to wait a moment longer.

With a twist of her fingers, his helmet was floating – she heard his grunt of surprise – she was turning, drinking in his features for a moment, his warmth, the desire curling toward her like rays of star shine.  “Perhaps you can change my mind,” she murmured, stepping into him, latching onto his shoulders.

Being with him was intoxicating her.  Knowing he was really here, beneath her palms.  That he couldn’t leave in the blink of an eye.  It was enough to make her reckless.

He was smirking at her.  She leaned up to kiss that right off his face. 

She’d surprised him – his breath hitched, and she had to work his mouth open with her own, swiping her tongue deep into his mouth.  She sighed, threading her fingers into his hair.  His fingers burned her at her waist, then trailing up her back as he pulled her closer, as he nipped her bottom lip.

The lift dinged.

She finished the kiss, drawing away to see him stumble slightly, inhale, his thick lashes shuttering for a moment.  He raised his gaze back to hers and she had never seen him look this way before – stunned?  Blissed?  Grateful?  Worshipful?

“You’ll have to do better than that.”  She turned, letting his helmet fall to the floor, and exited the lift. 

He was intrigued, hungry.  Furious that she had landed the first blow.  “I will,” his voice was cool and steady now, determined.  Each word was deliberate, measured.  “I will make you beg.”

She’d wanted to gain the upper hand, but now she felt flushed and needy and she hoped she hadn’t miscalculated.  She didn’t doubt his resolve.  She drew a steadying breath, sank back into her ocean. 

Challenging him was a dangerous game.

He had retrieved and returned his helmet to its place when he exited and caught her by the elbow.  She looked up into the unseeing face, not hiding her twinge of displeasure.  He took a step into her and her back hit the wall next to the closing door.  Risking leaning around him to look down the corridor – what if someone saw them? – but he immediately had her attention as he gripped her chin, a finger traced her lips.  She wished he didn’t feel the need to wear the helmet.  It was a Sith’s scare tactic.  An ode to a past that had died with Snoke.  And hadn’t he said, let the past die?

“What you do to me,” the modulator said, and even his touch felt artificial, encased in leather.  “We have to get off this ship.”

She stepped sideways and raised her hood, her heart pounding, but the moment gone. 

And no need to tell him.  He knew.  She could sense it in the frustration coating the air between them.

He wanted to touch her, to place his hand on the small of her back, or the very least her shoulder.  He didn’t like that she had told him not to touch her in public.

He was annoyed that she had kissed him when he would not have because they were on his flagship.

There was something else troubling him, the flash of consternation from earlier had remained.  She couldn’t untangle it, and the more she pushed at it, the greater his agitation grew.

He growled, “Stop.  Please.”

It felt like it had to do with imbalance.  Equals.  She withdrew.  Instead, she gave him the coordinates to the ship, which he silently programmed into a device on his wrist.

It felt like eternity, getting to the hangar.  The tension between them was growing steadily, and she was starting to catch flashes of thoughts from him that made her breath quicken.

He’d sensed her disquiet as she’d lost herself in Hux’s mind. 

He thought of her moaning.

He remembered the taste of her skin.

He thought of making her pay for the kiss she had stolen.

Snippets of flesh, of intent, enough to tease.

Enough to prove her very wrong.

Finally, the Silencer appeared in its hangar, and she breathed a sigh of relief, the tension was choking her, consuming her. 

But here there were more troops, more men whose emotions overwhelmed and smothered her.

He walked a step behind her, and she felt strain winding through him, through the hangar.

She stopped abruptly, put a hand out onto his arm – she heard his pulse stutter, he growled –

She caused a blaster to misfire, the Force moving through her as a reflex, the premonition quick and true.  She turned to stare at the man, not ten feet away.

Her fingers tightened on his arm, reflexively, possessively.  “He was aiming for you,” she murmured.

She let go, kept walking, disinterested in how he would handle the inconvenience of treason.  She was razor focused now, trying to discern if any others had his death in their hearts – a thought that made her furious.  She heard the scuffle, the man being led away, and by the time she had reached the gangway of his craft, he was once again at her shoulder.

As the gangway closed, she relaxed, away from the stares and blasters of his men.  Away from the danger, which had affected her more than she realized.  She paused to breathe, release her anger – he was fine.  She had stopped that man from hurting him.

If the danger hadn’t distracted her so, she would have felt his intention before his helmet clanged against the ground and his arm snaked around her waist.

The world faded away as he drew her to him, inhaling her scent next to her left ear.  One hand splayed across her stomach, pressing into her, huge and demanding.  His other hand dragged up her chest, his long fingers pushing up her neck, tilting it back.  Her hood fell.  He was huge and solid and warm behind her.  She swallowed, feeling the pressure of his index finger against her throat. 

The meditative ocean had gone when she relaxed.  Her kiss had opened the door she had desperately been keeping shut, and being in his arms like this was both exhilarating and nerve wracking. 

She could see his dark hair out of the corner of her eye as he nosed along the expanse of skin he had just revealed, and as the gangway clanged shut, she had half a moment to hope that no one had seen her wrapped in his arms like this. 

But what it was like being in his arms like this. 

She was having trouble controlling her breathing.  Every nerve felt like it was firing, and his fingers burned like lasers.

She heard the autopilot engage as he purred against her skin, “My savior.  I feel that you do care for me.”

She licked her dry lips, and his teeth pressed into her neck.  He sucked hard, and her desire flared around them like smoke.  She knew he could feel it, but still her breath settled, and she snapped, “You wish.”

“Allow me to show my gratitude,” his voice rumbled through his chest, vibrating against her back, and in this precarious position, it made her shiver.

There was a moment on the precipice, where she might have pulled away, and she knew he would have let her, the tension spun around them, and she felt a real nervousness from him, that she might walk away. 

She licked her lips.  He was asking.  “You do owe me,” she told him. 

He released a breath she hadn’t known he was holding, and his grip tightened, his emotions flowing through her so sharply and he was here, next to her, it was jarringly different than her dreams.  Like seeing the sunrise approaching across the dunes opposed to standing under its glare at noon. 

His fingers moved up her neck to grasp her tilted jaw, his thumb dragging on her lower lip.  “I will give you pleasure no other could,” he murmured against her ear.  “I can feel your desire calling to me.”  His thumb against her lips distracted her, he was pressing into her mouth, and he had removed his glove, his skin was rough against her tongue. 

His fingers grasped her sudden and roughly, making her cry out.  He had quickly dove beneath her clothing and a finger slipped between her folds, spearing her with both pain and pleasure.  She arched against him, against his hands pinning her to him, and her breath sounded desperate in her own ears as he curled a second finger into her, eliciting a rush of heat.

“You’re more exquisite than I imagined, at my mercy, panting for me,” he growled against her skin, and she bit his thumb, losing herself as heat curled through her stomach at every devastating stroke. 

It was better than she had imagined too. 

She reached behind her blindly, needing to feel him, and her fingers sank into his hair.  She tightened her grip, holding him against her neck and digging her other hand into his thigh, making him hiss, ravenous, thrilled.  His fingers worked deeper, and she gasped again.

“Yes,” his voice was dark and his desire churned through her like the maelstrom he was.  “Now.  Beg.”

She was not so far gone.  “No,” she rasped against his thumb. 

He pushed farther into her mouth and dug into her wetness at once, and she instinctively swirled her tongue around his thumb, the heat tightening.  She felt his will stutter, his hunger soar and hitch as she affected him.  But he growled again, “Beg.”

She pressed her teeth sharply against him, trying to gain clarity, trying to distract him.  “No.”

“I will stop,” he threatened darkly, and his fingers withdrew slowly, so slowly, and his breath was even and infuriatingly calm.

“No!” She said harshly, without thinking, the absence of his fingers leaving her aching, she twisted against him, trying to catch some friction.

His hand traveled upward to a breast, palming her.  She tried not to groan.  He pushed harder against her jaw, forcing her head back against his shoulder as he licked her neckline at a maddening slow pace.  “You don’t want me to stop?” He breathed, rolling her nipple between his fingers, and she couldn’t think, just pushed back against him, a moan escaping. 

“No,” she gasped, on the edge of a sob.  “Don’t stop.”

“Then beg,” he demanded, his voice deep and hungry as he pinched her nipple again, the pain screwing into her like lightning. 

He twisted his fingers, and it stole any rational thought.  “Please,” she gasped, her nails biting into his scalp without care, and she felt his wolfish grin in her bones.  “Please.”

He chuckled against her neck, and it shuddered through her, as his hand traveled back down her stomach and to the apex of her thighs.  He swept his finger across her opening carefully before plunging back inside.  “You want me,” he said darkly.  “Say it.”  She gasped again as his thumb found her clit and circled slowly.  “Say it!”

“I want you,” she echoed on a moan, never had she wanted something more, never had he wanted something more.

“Only me.  Say it.”

“You!”  He added a third finger and she was at the edge, he was just dragging his thumb against her so carefully, so slowly as he thrust into her roughly. “Damn you, you smug -”

“I’m not convinced, Rey,” he purred, licking her earlobe and easing the pressure, causing her to groan in dismay.  His fingers stilled, and she bucked her hips against him, feeling how hard he was against her ass, and how immovable his arms were, bands of steel. 

“No, please,” she begged, trying to get him to move through sheer force of words.  Feeling his desire to please her sharply flavor the air, his ecstasy.  She egged him on.  “Please, I want you.  More.”

He licked a hot stripe below her ear.  “More?”

“Yes!” She felt wild, frenzied.  He was stringing her out, his emotions choking her as his fingers pressed into her throat, making it even harder to breathe.

He bit down against the juncture of her neck and shoulder and her nails scrabbled at him, his thumb pulling her lips apart further as he dragged his fingers tortuously through her folds.  “You’re going to come for me.  You’re going to scream.  Keep begging.”

She was happy to, if it kept him thrusting in her, in the midst of this inferno.  “Please, come on!”

“You’re gorgeous desperate for me.”  He increased his pace, finally giving her what she wanted, and she bent back against him, on her toes, the wave cresting in her.  “Come for me, my dear,” he gritted out, clearly feeling it in her, satisfied.  And she did let out a hoarse cry, bucking uselessly against his hand as he stroked her, sending shocks of pleasure to ride against her.  His desire and determination and possession soared through her, tingling against her clit and her stomach clenched.  “Yes,” he breathed.  “You’re mine.”

His lips slanted against hers in a brutal kiss, and she could barely hold on as the aftershocks rode through her, like nothing she had ever felt before.  She was almost crying, from the intensity of the orgasm he’d wrung from her.  He bit her, and she gave one last spent moan into his mouth, his words, his proximity, making her head spin.

She collapsed against him as her knees gave out, exhausted, her hold on her meditative state completely gone.  Sleep.  He released her mouth, catching her, and she was cradled by the warmth of a sand dune.  Her mind felt hazy as he lifted her effortlessly.  “Rey,” he growled, but she was falling into darkness.


	9. Would Have Done, Will Do

The hallway in the clouds beckoned.

Ice and death and breathless howling wind.

_“There is no escape.”_

She woke with a gasp, her shoulder jerking against something hard.

Completely disoriented, she tried to sit up, but found herself half pinned beneath – at the brush of skin, heat arresting her, the night before came rushing back, and she groaned at her lack of self-control.  Or her reckless abandon.  That made it sound equally irresponsible and intentional.

Him.  A bonfire, awake and smug.  Of course.

But hadn’t she dreamed of this – of waking up without having to worry, without having to think about where he was, because he was beside her?

It had been worth it, she thought.  But still.  An enemy, in her bed.

“Good morning, my dear,” he purred in her ear, his deep voice rumbling against her back.

She tried to twist, but one of his legs was tangled over hers, and a large arm encircled her, holding her flush against him.  Like laying against the sand under the desert sun, warm and radiant.  She relaxed, feeling his chest move against her back as he exhaled, inhaled quickly, unsteadily.  She could see all of the muscles in his forearm, part of his bicep, relaxed, still defined and sure and bone white.  He must have felt her gaze, because he flexed suddenly, drawing her closer, his palm pressing against her hip with an air of restraint, promise. 

Rey’s voice almost wavered.  “Where are we?” she murmured, the effort of moving suddenly not worth it.

“My bed,” he rumbled, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her shoulder.  She couldn’t help a shiver.  Affection.  Intimacy.  “Where I hope to get you to scream my name this time.”

Heat warmed her cheeks, and she thought, of course he had to go and say something like that, the cocky guttersnipe, but she still felt languid and relaxed, more relaxed then she had in months.  She stretched a bit, points of contact against him numerous and overwhelming and luxurious. 

Tempted to stay here.

But, then – she scrabbled out from beneath him with effort, gaining more clarity when she turned to face him, just out of reach.  He looked stormy with her sudden absence. “Did you make me sleep?” she gritted out.

He had taken his uniform and shirt off to sleep with her.  He hoisted himself up on one arm, muscles rippling, and for a split second she was distracted.  A smirk bloomed on his lips, knowing where she was staring.  “Barely.  You desperately needed sleep.”

“You could have asked!” She exclaimed, rubbing her forehead, taking stock of her surroundings.  “I need the ’fresher.”

She bought herself precious moments to think, remembering every word and touch from last night. 

She’d positively crumbled beneath his skilled hands and dark words.

She thought that she didn’t mind, though she was a touch embarrassed at how quickly she had caved – it had felt like losing, though really, what had she lost?  He had given her exactly what she had wanted.  And it had been better than she expected. 

Without trying, she could feel his pleasure and ease in the other room, the strength of his emotions so much clearer this close.  Also a hint of regret that he might have upset her.

Which he had.  The idiot.

She centered herself, letting the Force flow through her.  She felt stronger, grounded.  Being with him had cleared any tension from her body, her mind.  But now it was coming back.  She needed to focus on her mission.

He was still half-laying on the bed, waiting for her, his bare chest gorgeously chiseled and his hair mussed.  He stared at her with baleful eyes as she returned, trying to gauge her mood.  She had slipped back into a lake, calm, peaceful.  Content, but unmoving.  “Come back to bed.”

She crossed her arms.  “I did not agree to share a bed with you.”

“Oh?”  His lips curled back from his teeth.  “You agreed to stay with me in my quarters for one night.  Here we are.”

“Now it is day,” she was not certain, but she felt like she had slept for over eight hours.  “Time for you to uphold your end of the bargain.”

His eyes were hooded as his gaze licked her like flames, his tongue wetting his lips.  “Did I please you last night.”

She gritted her teeth, frustration bleeding through the still waters.  Not even a question.  “You know you did.”

He leaned sideways on his elbows, the corded muscles in his neck straining, drawing her eye.  She wanted to bite him there.  Mark him, like he had marked her.  “Let me please you again.”

She did not mean to falter, but he somehow managed to send a ripple of the intense pleasure, the cresting wave from the night before echoing back through time and space to hit her with gale force strength.

She stumbled closer to him, caught up in it.  She had no real reason to refuse him, beyond her annoyance with his heavy handedness, and she could remain angry with him for that later.  She could live in this moment where his promise was written across a face stark with need.

She knew he would press his advantage, and he did, allowing his desire to darken the air between them, flaring white hot and making the hair on her arms stand on end.  His long fingers curled against the sheets.

His eyes bore into her, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe.  Rey wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, but his desire was pulling her, forcing the door in her mind open even wider, allowing thoughts she tried not to think escape.

_“I would have tied you to our bed if I had to.”_

“Yes,” he hissed, teeth flashing white and bared, and the intensity of his gaze strengthened, honing in on what had slipped passed her defenses.

She moved preternaturally to deter him, to hide her feelings.  She was on him in less than a heartbeat, leaning across his body to kiss him fiercely, her hands spearing through his hair.  She had no leverage, her knees sinking into his mattress.

No.  She knew what she wanted.  She wanted this.  The feeling of him, his energy, his life force thrumming through her with an intensity she couldn’t feel from light years away.  She could barely think past the exhilaration of the power filling her cells to the brim.  Time seemed to slow between one touch and the next, despite her determined, urgent pace.  She bit his lip, sucking it between her teeth and he tasted like coffee on her tongue.  His hair felt so soft beneath her fingers.  She gripped into its darkness, tilting his head back, her mind drunk with power and throwing caution to the wind.  She didn’t want to think, she just wanted this heat to consume her, she wanted him to moan like she had – she kissed down his scar, scraped her teeth against his jaw, finding a spot just below on his neck and sucking it like she had his mouth – she had never felt anything like this before.  A time or two, fast, bodies moving, this was all she knew.

She bit down harder and finally, finally, she drew a strangled moan from his throat, tortured, his massive hands that fascinated her so much slid up her legs, digging in deep.  She felt a thrill of craving, his moan echoing in her ears – she had done that to him.  He grasped the backs of her thighs, pulling her closer, and she half fell on top of him as his fingers squeezed into her again and she had to pause for breath.

He had not been deterred.

She felt it in him, he would not have her distract him, he would get exactly what he wanted, because he knew her and, “I know what you want,” he groaned as he surged up, using his grip to flip her so she sprawled on his bed, wondering suddenly why it was for two – “Of course I built this for you,” he murmured as she bounced, settled against the mattress, his thighs against her own, pinning her.  “A place where I could give you what you want.”

“Which is?” But it came out breathless, and edged, not at all unemotional.

“You want me to tie you down,” he breathed, looming above her, giving her a fine view of his broad shoulders and huge pecs. He leaned only slightly, one hand had moved to her waist and his fingers brushed her cheek.  She turned unwittingly to the touch, craving the heat, the rush.  “You want it fast and rough, to lose yourself.”

A wicked smile spread across her lips, couldn’t help the molten heat spilling out of her eyes as she reached up and dragged him down for another kiss, arching her neck up off the bed to lick deep into his mouth, not being gentle – she didn’t want gentle – as her nails dug into his scalp, his shoulder.  She felt him shudder against her as he grasped her wrist, driving it into the bed as he tried to keep his balance, his other hand slinking up her side as she devoured him.  He circled a nipple with his thumb, making her jolt in surprise.

She felt something else curl around her wrist.

Then her hand was tugged from his hair and she was surprised enough that she pulled away – but he only followed her, driving her back against the bed, hungry and hard and biting.

“I’m going,” he growled, nipping at her lips, “only as fast as I want.”

She twisted her hips experimentally, feeling how much he wanted her through his lose slacks and her leggings.  He snarled and reared back.

She tried to trail him, and froze.

He had followed through.

Her breath and pulse quickened, involuntarily twisting her shoulders as she tested the cords holding her arms splayed out from her on either side.  She now recognized the flare in the Force around them for what it had been – she had barely heeded it, wrapped up in him.

For a moment, panic rose, and he rocked back on his heels.  “Do you trust me?” he asked seriously.

No.

But, right here, right now?

She relaxed, thinking, I trust him for this, and the slight sliver of panic is gone, burned out by her desire quickly resurfacing.

He looked slightly uncertain, but starved, so determined as he gnawed the inside of his cheek, staring at her.

She rolled a shoulder again, her breasts rising and falling heavily – intentionally.  The uncertainty burned out too, and he looked ready to pounce.

“Supreme Leader,” she exhaled, teasing him, not answering his loaded question, watching as a fist clenched in effort against his heavy thigh.  The heat against her skin spiked and she knew she’d got him.  “You’ve captured your Jedi.  What will you do with me?”

His lips twisted in a smirk.  “I’m going to make you pay for running from me.”

“I’ve never run,” she retorted.  “It’s not my fault you’re blind.”

His long fingers gripped her chin, tilting it up.  She couldn’t see, but she thought she heard the rasp of a knife.  “I’ll make you pay for that, too,” he breathed, leaning so close that she felt his breath against her lips.  But his fingers were firm and she couldn’t seem to leverage herself up to meet his lips.  She wet hers, and her tongue just nicked his own for a moment. Her exhale was harsher than she intended, sounding needy in her throat.  His smirk widened.

Cool metal played against her skin, and now she realized that he was making short work of her top – the knife sliced through the linen, and she gasped too late, “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to see every inch of your skin, my Jedi,” he purred, fabric ripping.

“I don’t have a spare tunic!” she hissed.

“Good,” he growled, ripping the cloth from her skin and flinging it off the bed.  His weight collapsed slightly so that he was on top of her, his bare chest against hers.  She clenched her fists, trying to rub against him, pushing up as best she could, and her nipples brushed against his, prickling and she thought, I’ve lost it.  Whatever game.  He’s won again.

“You’ll have to wear one of mine.” His kiss was deep, possessive, before he backed away, dizzying.  His eyes were burning with need as he suddenly rocked his hips against hers and she gasped.  “Everyone will see.”  A slow roll of her hips and she couldn’t help her strangled moan.  He bent down, bit her lip, growling into her mouth as his hands found her breasts, “He’ll see.”

It took her a moment, to process what he’d said as he caressed her, distracting her, and all that pale skin was on display, how she wished to leave marks down his back, on his throat so that he would see them when he looked in the mirror tomorrow.

Though he already saw her every time he looked in the mirror, in the slash she’d left across his face.

His possessiveness was leeching into her, catching hers. She bared her teeth against it.  “He won’t find out,” she hissed.  “No one will.”

“I want the whole universe to know that you belong with me,” he rasped, his lips traveling down her throat, whispering over bare skin.  “That I finally found you.”  His lips closed around a nipple and her inhale was sharp as she strained against him, the restraints barely a feeling against her arm guards.

He bit her, his teeth a revelation and she couldn’t stop the sharp cry from passing her lips.  His skin against hers was driving her wild, she felt unhinged, out of control.  Heat curled through her abdomen, and she bucked against him, feeling the hard ridge of his cock drag against her.

Trapped.  He had her.

She licked her lips.  She liked that.

“That I am the one allowed to worship you.”  A hand clasped firmly in her hair as he yanked her head back, and she felt so vulnerable, spread out before him.  “That I may do anything I want to you, and you’d only beg me for more.”

“No one can know,” she hissed again.  “But yes, you have me.”

“I want that flyboy to know that he can never touch you again,” he said savagely.  He was kissing her neck, and then suddenly bit down hard, just as he rocked against her, shooting hurt and longing through her as she cried out.  He suckled against the mark, bringing blood to the surface as she thrashed futilely against him.

She was so close to the edge, she could feel it, but he merely tugged on her hair harder, sank his teeth in deeper, going still.  “Damn you, move!” she gasped.

He slowly let go of her hair, stroking her cheek as his gaze met hers and he gave a final lick to her bruised skin.  “He’ll see it,” he breathed.  “He’ll know that I had you beneath me, that I had my hands on you – ” he was back to caressing her breasts, and she snarled at him impatiently, wordlessly.  “That you want me.”

“I’ll tell him that I was unsatisfied,” he was making her exasperated with need.  “I will see if he can do better.”

He growled, sinking his fingers into her roughly, twice, three times,  and she was so wet and tense she tumbled right over the edge with a hoarse cry, his fingers jolting her through little aftershocks as she trembled against him, the heat flushing through her, every place he touched her a hot pin prick and she shook, it was too much, she wanted him to kiss her, but he had drawn back slightly, a fierce look of satisfaction on his face, and she snapped, “Kiss me, you big bantha.”

He obliged, stretching against her languidly, tension leaving his shoulders as his hands stretched to twine with hers, the kiss leisurely and hot and long.  “I liked it better when you called me ‘Supreme Leader,’” he breathed.  “I’d like it even better if you called me Ben.”

Her shoulders tensed.

She wasn’t sure.

“I’ll settle for ‘babe’ or ‘my lord,’” his tone was amused, but his muscles were tensing again and his hips flexed against her, suddenly reigniting flames.  “Even Kylo.”

“How about ‘beast,’ or ‘hot stuff,’” she said lightly, trying not to slide back into the inferno.  “Like, gonna untie me, hot stuff?”

“I’m not done with you, my dear,” he breathed, and she was falling again as he dragged his hard cock against her – too many clothes – and she pressed her lips together to muffle the telltale groan.  “You look too gorgeous, spread out beneath me.”  He was rolling down her leggings, and she was almost shy for a moment, but his dark eyes met hers as he pressed a kiss against the inside of her knee.  “I’ve thought of you like this so many times,” he breathed.  “I can’t believe it’s real.”

“I have hardly let myself think,” she replied reflexively.

“Now you won’t forget,” he said darkly, his lips working up her thighs.

He spread her to his eyes, and she squirmed.  “As much as I want to taste you,” he growled, his breath cool against her hot flesh.  “I won’t taste you until I get you on my throne.  My empress.”

She thrust up toward him again, straining, jaw clenched.  “You’re a lot of talk, my lord.”

He laughed against her stomach, and she knew he could feel all of her frustration, but also her need, how he was winding her up, so expertly it was plainly infuriating. And she couldn’t even see his face as he laughed, barely imaginable. 

He began to slowly explore, landing soft kisses across her skin as she wrapped her legs around his hips and cursed him.  “I’ve waited a long time,” he whispered.  “And I enjoy making you greedy.  So far from your indifference.”

She dug her heels against his thighs, slipping against the fabric.  He had started using his teeth and she was on the verge of sobbing, so close!  He was killing her.  She tried to return to some measure of the indifference to punish him, and she was moderately successful, falling silent.

He stilled against her, his lips near an elbow and fingers nowhere near where she needed him.  “That won’t do,” he breathed.  “I’m going to make you come again.  I told you, I’m going to make you scream my name.”

“You can try, flyboy,” throwing his insult back at him.

He started slow, teasing her clit with the tips of his fingers, kissing her like he had all the time in the world, hovering just far enough away that she couldn’t get deep into his mouth, couldn’t taste him completely.  She lost her breath, trying not to use it to give him the satisfaction.

“Come on baby,” he whispered against the shell of her ear.  “Let me make you feel good.”

She relaxed marginally.

He rubbed against her, so hard and he felt huge.  The friction burned into her, and she felt his fierceness, his voracious appetite wash through her, scalding her, she arched against him letting out a groan of frustration.  “Make me come,” she demanded.

“Say my name,” he challenged, pressing against her as his fingers pushed in wider, hitting her deep.  

His thumb found her clit and she moaned, her throat dry and scorched.  “You beast,” she twisted, feeling him riding the same edge.  “Come with me.”

He was close, she could feel it and he inhaled on a tortured groan, thrust against her tight thighs again.  “Even tied beneath me, you rule me,” he groaned.

“Please me,” she urged him on, reckless, broken, fiery.  “Make me yours.”

“Next time I will,” he promised, sinking his teeth into the swell of her breast as he thrust with his fingers.  “No time for your tricks.  You’ll just scream.”

She moaned.  Her vision was blurry, her limbs lax, she thought of it, she wished he’d just done it now – he felt her desire and his answering groan was strangled.  “Say it,“ he gritted, his fingers slowing.

“Kylo,” it was dark and angry and flame on her tongue.  He closed his lips over a nipple again, and she strained against him.  “Kylo!”

“Rey,” he answered, his voice jagged, and one last quick thrust and she was soaring again, crying out without words, twisting against him, and then he was following her, his hips convulsing against her and her name left him again, guttural.

She was wrecked.  Floating in a different ocean, one that was need and passion, he was everywhere, in each shiver on her skin, in her thoughts, her panting breath.

She felt him roll off her and she could hear him moving but she couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes just yet.

She woke with a start, her shoulder jerking against something hard.

Completely disoriented – she collapsed back against him, groaning in disbelief, a hand rubbing against her eyes.

She hadn’t slept this much in months!

Her mind woke up slower, her senses stuttering to life and rubbed raw by his consternation, even stronger than earlier, and she realized that he was propped up on the bed, her head resting against his chest as he ran his fingers through her hair.  His other hand spanned her hip, holding her against him. It was soothing. Comfortable. Something she could have dreamed.

But his shoulders were bowed and she felt the tension in him uncurling like a living thing. He pressed a kiss to her temple with such gentleness it stole her breath.

Ben?

She pulled forward to look at him and she thought she saw gleaming wetness in his eyes before he blinked and said, “You’re beautiful. I never want to let you go.”

She opted for politeness.  “Thank you,” she murmured.  Then a smile.  “You’re not bad yourself.”

Those hands.  The broad chest. His crooked mouth, teasing her.  His thighs, pinning her.

He shuddered, like he could hear her thoughts and they crawled against his skin.  She wiggled away, dragging a blanket with her self-consciously to the ’fresher, feeling his eyes on her bare skin.


	10. I'll Never Join You

He was still burning when she returned from the ’fresher, staring out into a shifting nebula, beautiful and deadly. 

Like him.

He didn’t move right away, his hands clasped behind his back, his shoulders and thighs straining at the uniform he had put on, presumably while she slept.  He could be standing in the throne room, ready to fight fire with fire.  Still and taunt as a bowcaster.  Rey had forgot that he could be patient, with that whirlwind inside.

She’d almost expected him to come at her again, as she emerged wrapped in his towel.  She felt unsteady.  She had regained some calm.  But it also felt like something inside her was crumbling, rocked.

All she had left were her arm guards, which she had rewrapped after she dried off from his shower.  He stirred, perhaps catching this thought.  He turned, his jaw working for a moment as he took her in, bent slightly to gather up some clothing without looking away.  “Let me help you,” he murmured.

She rolled her eyes at him, snatching her leggings and perching on the edge of the bed to pull them on somewhat surreptitiously under the towel.  She glanced up and he was holding out the tunic expectantly.

She turned away from him and dropped the towel.  His breath caught behind her, and she held out her arms.  Her pulse quickened as he eased the material over her, feeling his fingers ghosting over her skin. 

She shivered. 

His hands lingered on her waist, and he inhaled, pressed his lips to her throat.  She remembered the mark he had left, wondered at the distance and tension and fury and need that riddled him. 

She didn’t understand.

He relaxed against her, and she turned in his arms to scrutinize his expression.  Blank.  Didn’t move.  Swallowed.  “Lead on, my lady,” he murmured, gesturing toward the airlock.

She pulled away, thinking, retrieved her cloak and pack, her lightsaber.  Accepted coffee. “What is troubling you?” she asked.

He’d turned from her, was fiddling with a control panel.  “I’m trying to be on my best behavior, my dear,” his voice rumbling through the air, hitting her in the chest.  “For you.”

That wasn’t it. 

She folded her hands together around the mug, and thought that she didn’t have time to play games with him at the moment.  The unfamiliar black, padded fabric itched at her neck. 

“Have you found the pod?” she asked his ramrod straight back.

“Yes, I’ve tethered it to my ship,” he said smoothly, ducking under another panel.  “What do you think we have to do?”

Now she reached out, sensed the presence just beyond this hatch, the thrum of the unfamiliar.  A wisp of cloud and chagrin.

She shook that away.  “I’ll know.”  She was sure.  His presence was making her both uneasy and confident. 

He was here.  He was helping her. 

But his fracture rubbed at her, and something hummed in her periphery.

He looked over his shoulder at her, and she caught a flash of helplessness. 

Despite the calm that had descended upon focusing on her work, she still felt off balance. She downed the rest of the coffee, ate a ration bar, her skin prickling. 

She drew even with him, studying his expression.  His brow furrowed as they both stepped up to the airlock. 

“You said my grandfather found this ship?”

“Yes,” she said carefully, trying to gauge his new mood but he was still slightly withdrawn. 

“I sense a presence,” he murmured. “One I have not felt since. . .”

A chill worked its way up her spine. 

The past stretches behind her like an abyss, hurling emotions and words and faces and places at her in a whirlwind, threatening to sweep her up.

_“Strike me down – ”_

_“I killed – ”_

_“Run away – ”_

_“Release your anger – ”_

_“Don’t do this.”_

_“I need him.”_

_“I feel the conflict – ”_

_“You underestimate – ”_

_“Fear leads – ”_

Space a yawning chasm.  Lightning racing against an amethyst lightsaber.  A white hallway, filled with the breath of the dying. 

The chill of a reactor room, another breath - respirated - echoing in her ears.

He had sensed some part of the gaping void in the Force behind him – how couldn’t he have – “Rey?”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” she said, gritting her teeth against the onslaught. 

Message received. 

Deep breaths. 

Calm returned.  At peace.  His life force thrummed against her, steadied her. 

“Let’s go,” she said, sharper than she intended.  His hand had been outstretched, a moment away from a comforting touch on her shoulder.  He retreated, his eyes boring into hers, his yearning not assuaged by the past day.

It bled through, hit her suddenly.

He must have felt some part of that feeling, her confusion about the strength of his – desire?  Lust?  Greed?  Feelings?

His hands – his dexterous fingers that captivated her so, that she was now sure were as talented as she had dreamed – clenched, fists straining against his thighs like he did when he was furious, controlling himself for her, holding himself back with effort.

“You will always be everything to me,” he hissed, shocking her, catching her flat footed.  “I will always want you.”

She reached out reflexively, absent minded, certain of his belief in his words but needing to know, and she found no lie in him.  Fear.  Anger.  But no untruth.

He dropped his gaze to her fingers stretched toward him, and he whispered, “Even if you don’t need me.”

She was deep in the ocean now, the Force flowing through her with such strength and purpose.  She did not have time to dwell, but she completed her stretch across the distance between them, a light year at least, and her fingers rested on his cheek bone, splayed across the scar.  The touch alone lit her on fire, though it felt like only fuel for her purpose, for the task ahead.  She inhaled, drinking in his fury and need, that helplessness she couldn’t understand, his skin vibrating beneath her fingers.  “I believe you.”

It was true.

His fear and consternation mixed with furious drive, his strength of purpose that normally left her breathless churned within her moment of peace. 

She had nothing to fear.  She was strong. 

The airlock opened. 

She immediately saw the shift in his eyes, the dark edge, but she had no time to ponder because he was suddenly giving her a brutal kiss, his hands cradling her neck, his hips driving her back against the metal frame, forcing her back into a hallway that a corner of her mind knew was within the Jedi ship, but all she felt was fire and darkness and an ice creeping up to counteract the flame –

His lean, hard body pressed her against the wall, and she wrapped a leg around him, wanting him.  His thumbs swept across her cheekbones, his need was unbridled and dark and she was lost.

The darkness called to her like the fire, strong and clear.

_Join me._

No?

Something was wrong.

It was rattling, just a feeling that she was trying to swim through.

She clung to him, thinking, I want you.  But.

Her hesitation was like a firework.

It shot through the gloom and she was there; he was there.

There had never been any doubt.

What had caused the doubt?

The darkness was cloying and dangerous and she broke out thinking this isn’t it.  This isn’t what I want.  He lost his grip on her, stumbled away from her, she couldn’t –

She blinked and they were in a corridor, segmented and breathless and cold and the bareness of an atmosphere streaming by them in fragmented particles.  Squares of light. 

A place she had seen in visions several times.  A place she had not thought she could go.

A city in the clouds.

Her mind was slow to catch up, but she felt the challenge coming, set her shoulders.

In the space of a gust she’d lost him somehow, in the darkness.

He was screaming.

A choice.

“Ben!”  She screamed back, meaning it, certain of one thing.  “Ben, run!”

She turned, and he was braced against the wall, every tendon stood out against his neck, and the wind was whipping against him, making him look disoriented and broken, his hair streaming across his face.  “Not without you!”

Then she heard it.

The breath from her nightmare, the moment that broke her dream into reality.

“No,” she gasped, her composure slipping as she tried to reach for anything, anyone.  She couldn’t believe they were here. 

“Search your feelings. . .”

It was like all the light was being sucked out of the air, like all her ties were broken and she was standing in a gale alone. 

“You know it to be true.”

The respirator echoed through her bones.

She couldn’t see him, so she turned back to Ben, feeling along the feeble tie she still had to him but it felt so weak.  Almost as if he was being torn from her.  His eyes were wild when they swam into her vision again, and there were strains of red and gold, flecks she had only seen once before, a memory of agony.  His shoulders were hunched and he looked furious and glorious and terrifying.

But she wasn’t afraid.

She shoved him to his feet, started maneuvering him back through the airlock, she didn’t care, she didn’t think, she was almost through –

He began to yell at her, like a wounded animal and she couldn’t stop tears as she mustered her own yell, “Leave, Ben!”

The click of the exhale. 

Too late. 

The cold was so foreign to her and had quickly seeped into the sinew of her muscles, the blood vessels beneath her skin, already killing her as she looked over her shoulder, still driving him back against the airlock with her shoulder as he howled. 

And the looming, towering form swept into the hall, the satin brushed cloak slithering along the floor.  “Join me,” the words were hollow and metallic and frightening.  “My heir apparent.”

The ruby red lightsaber ignited and she had to shove back, to parry by throwing her own, she needed Ben out of here.

Rational thought bled through, and Rey seized, hurled his blade back into his ship, saw him distracted in an effort to boomerang it back, one final heave – 

She closed the airlock.

His pain ripped through her like a swipe from a sand dragon and it almost sent her to her knees.  Sweat and tears burned her eyes and she refocused, wiping it away, squaring her shoulders, reclaiming her blade.

Disengaging the airlock.  Shutting him out and away. 

“You have learned much, young one. But you think you can keep him from me?”  The metal air rasped and she set her feet, brought his own lightsaber up before her.

“Yes,” she growled.  “I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4/9 quotes from the past belong to Anakin and all have to do with him. 
> 
> I’ve been quoting the movies a fair bit. Maybe Empire the most because it is the best one (don’t at me for this cold take).
> 
> “I’ll never join you!” - Luke Skywalker


	11. The Basalt Path

The metallic click of the respirator echoed around her improbably, cutting through the howling wind.  “You are nothing,” Darth Vader’s voice rose as she pinned him to the railing.  “To my grandson.  To your resistance.  Your thoughts betray you.”

“No,” she exhaled and reversed her blade, slashing him through.  “I am exactly who I am supposed to be.”

The simulacrum burst into a thousand invisible pieces, and with it the vision of the suspension bridge where she now knew Luke had fought Vader long ago.

She was sore and tired and barely in control of her anger.

“You could have warned me!”

She knew he would come.  She whipped around, barely noticing the training chamber she was actually in, the semi-darkness, consoles, muted stand-by lights.  Not the bowels of a floating city.

Anakin Skywalker was still, himself, his hands clasped before him, not the mockery of humanity he had become.  “Ben has what I once wanted.  The power to rule the galaxy with the woman he loves by his side.  But, like me, he is not strong enough to understand that there is no point of view that makes the dark side justifiable.”

Disbelief colored her vision, making her dizzy.

_“Anakin! You’re breaking my heart.”_

Phantom fingers wrapped around her throat.

_“You turned her against me!”_

A world of fire and pain and rage.

She’d heard the old stories about Darth Vader, about the fortress on Mustafar that sat empty and brooding, a shell of theoretical greatness.

A lifetime – Luke’s lifetime – had passed since the fall of the Jedi and the rise of the Empire, of the Sith.  And still, the stains of blood and darkness crossed the galaxy.

She came back to herself, and her face was wet with tears.

She’d seen flashes of this past, this sorrow.  From Luke.  From Anakin.  In meditation.

But in that place the Force had taken her, she had seen and felt Anakin throw away everything he had loved – his wife, his child, his brother – played by the master politician and dark lord Palpatine.

She had felt the depth of fear and anger – she had only ever felt that in one other alive.

“You meant to challenge him?  You think he is lost?” she whispered.

She had seen the tears on Anakin’s face as he looked out over the lava fields for the first time, she had felt quickly and breathlessly the weight of years – fifteen perhaps – looking out over the same lava fields with his heart dead inside.

Her own heart was threatening to beat out of her chest.  “You think you destroyed the Jedi for good?”

His eyes were burning, but not with the red fire she had seen in them in the past.  The fire that had threatened to take over Ben, confronted by the remnants of Vader’s darkness and the terrifyingly realistic simulacrum.  “I cannot rest until I have righted that wrong.  Rey.  You must rebuild the Order, bring peace to the Galaxy.  At any cost.”

She couldn’t stop crying.  “Luke forgave you,” she whispered.  “Obi-Wan forgave you.  I can forgive him.”

Anakin’s hand rested on her shoulder, improbable, almost real, “Don’t cry for me, little one,” he whispered.  “My pain is an old pain that destroyed millions of lives. You can prevent the destruction of millions more.”

A flash, a moment.

A temple.

Children.  Not the ghosts of those she had seen Anakin destroy.  Laughing.  Traditional braids on their shoulders.

The future choked her just as his hands had.

“I see it,” she told him, wonder filling her chest.  “I will succeed.”

_"I will not fail you, Master."_

The words echoed from his past, promises broken to Obi-Wan, to Sidious.

Her gaze did not waver.  He knew.  This was a promise she would not break.

 “I will not fail you, Master.”

“May the Force be with you, Rey.”  His face was hungry with the flash of the future she had seen.  He took a sharp breath, and was gone.

She tore the ship apart, throwing herself into the work and discovering treasure troves of knowledge, of lost Jedi and kyber crystals and wisdom, maps, credits, anything she would need.

The ship had somehow tracked Luke’s progress, was connected to other databases and – people?

She began the long and arduous process of reaching out, meditating on the names and places in the logs.

Darth Vader had built the simulacrum and then abandoned this ship, never using it again.  It had lived on its own, impervious to him and time.

The Force was strong here.  Bolstering her, cradling her, shielding her.

She suddenly knew what she had to do.

Impossible.

But not for her.

She made contact.

Luke had warned them against this day.

Part of her was shocked.  He hadn’t told her any had survived, that they had been waiting.

They thought she was not what they had expected.  They did not like her association with Kylo Ren.

She was used to not being alone in her own head, but she knew, from the teachings of hundreds of years now jammed into her skull that she was not supposed to be able to do this.  A bond such as hers with him was rare - any sort of bond, like the one between Luke and Leia, between Obi-Wan and Anakin, was generally familial, in blood or mind.  Master and apprentice.

To suddenly have the clamoring of several minds – five? more? – thrust upon her . . .

She screamed.

He heard her, and then he was yelling back wordlessly, in a rage and oblivious of the other presences, his desperation, his fury at not being able to protect her, to be everything for her.

_You don’t need to be everything._

With effort, she relegated him to the back of her mind, she honed in on the words and echoes of pain and hope and bitterness.

Even a Jedi’s emotions get the better of her when left to her own devices.

But a couple of them were wise, had apprentices.  Jedi Knights.

The tears returned, and suddenly she was pouring all of Anakin’s pain and regret into them, her own betrayal and pain, which felt like it paled in comparison, her vision, her hope and clarity.

Her belief in the ways of the Force.

The children.  The promise they held.

It was time.

Every mind who touched hers was silent.

Not because they were gone.

She showed them Yoda, appearing before her, instructing her with the oldest texts.

“I have everything they were.  We will be everything they were meant to be.”

There were no more questions.

She wasn’t alone.

Her mind stuttered.  She hadn’t been alone.  But now, she had these others, others to help her shape the future of the Order.

This lifetime would be named, written in the Archives as the Dark Age or some similar moniker and it would be merely a moment in a history already rich and thriving, as it would be again.

One lifetime.  A stone on a paved path, stretching forward in a garden, one she could barely see as the path curved sharply away from her.

The future was always changing.  But this would not.

_Rey!  Where are you?_

She ignored him.  Took a steadying breath.

"Come to me." 

He hadn’t found her planet yet.  And he wouldn’t.  They would.

"You’ll find me." 

She blocked them all out, set about meditating, regaining strength, cleansing Vader from her psyche and pores and thoughts.

It wasn’t until she was re-entering the atmosphere of her sanctuary that she finally stirred, tried to weigh what might happen next.

 _Can you come?_  She asked Leia, reaching across light years.

 _No,_ her mind was heavy with questions and age.  What was wrong? 

With effort she saw what Leia saw, what seemed to be a Knight of Ren, an ambassador.  Another, in another delegation.

_How many?_

_Three._   One would be enough.

Enough to destabilize and raze a republic.

She went straight to comms, had a proper conversation with Leia.  Found out that there was some sort of peace celebration, delegations from every planet, in just over a week.  The knights had not gone to Kylo Ren.  Yet. 

“Anakin warned me darkness was coming,” she finished.  “He didn’t tell me the darkness was him.”

“Typical,” Leia snorted.

“I’m worried,” Rey took a deep breath.  “It did not go well.  And we had been . . . getting along.  To an extent.”

Her mind was an ocean.

Leia’s expression was not hard to read through the hologram.

A pause.

Rey didn’t blink.

“I’ll let you know when he returns,” Leia finally said.  “In case you don’t know first.”

“I’ll know.”

The hologram winked out and the dam broke, all of the feelings rushing in.  She bent over the console, gasping, unable to think for a moment.

“Commander Skywalker?”

Had to get out of here.

“I’m fine, thanks, Lieutenant,” she managed to gasp, the woman’s rank jumping out from her lapel for her, before she turned and fled.

She was in the river, staring up at the sky on her back before she’d had much time to think about where she should go.  Her legs had simply carried her on a familiar path.

She closed her eyes.

_“You turned her against me!”_

She flailed up with a gasp, those volcanic eyes searing into her soul.

She couldn’t leave him like this.

But she had a job to do.

She settled onto the rocks beneath the bridge, thinking.

The future was coming to her planet, and she had to be mindful of the future.

But not at the expense of the present.

He was hurting.  And sand snakes were about to burst from the ground in front of him.

She worked through some exercises, stretching unused muscles, not thinking for a short while.  Enjoying her connection to her planet, her wildlife and greenery and dirt and stones.  When she re-centered she knew three things.

One.  Her Jedi already trusted her, and she had to protect them, nourish them, at any cost.

Two.  She had to do anything within her power to make sure he wasn’t the cost.

Three.  Maybe he wasn’t ready, maybe she wasn’t ready, perhaps they never would be.  But she had to regain some portion of the blind faith she had had in him.

For the first time since she had come to call this planet home, she suddenly didn’t want to be there.

She wanted to be with him.

This thought lit up like a ship’s hyperdrive in a darkening sky and she was rushing toward him, she was reaching out across parsecs –

She blinked.  The sun was just as bright.  She looked over her shoulder and her river was still there, but looking back –

He was standing next to a breathtaking lake.  As the world fizzled in around him, she could see domes and pillars and so many vibrant colors and the lake was more water than she had ever seen before life tore her from Jakku.  He was standing with a beautiful, petite woman in full regalia – tassels and yards of silk and things Rey didn’t have names for – and for half a moment, before she became as still as the lake in front of them, Rey felt a pang.

He was surprised, sent her a hard look, and now she could feel the pain, still so much pain, but his eyes didn’t look like . . . well.

He almost smiled.  That signature mixture of his feelings when he saw her washed through her, and it was so familiar and comfortable, but she missed the life force, the blaze of power and strength.

“Where are you?” She asked softly.  “Do you know what waits for you?”

He knew.  He was not focused on the threat.

“It will not take me long, Your Highness,” he said, turning back to the woman beside him.  The helmet was tucked under his arm, almost in deference.  He was struggling to focus, as he attempted to leash his emotions, keep them in check.

“That is not my complaint, Supreme Leader,” the woman said, and she turned so that she was no longer in profile and Rey was struck by her severe makeup, like nothing she had ever seen before.  Her face was white, adorned by a single red dot on each cheek.  Red lipstick on the top lip, and a single vertical line on the bottom.  Perhaps – but in the thousands of years and images crammed into her mind over the past months she could not immediately place it. “You have asked me to enter the mausoleum of one of our most respected leaders.  It is a sacred and unusual place.”

He swallowed, and she watched the muscles working along his jaw, neck.  “It is a personal request, Your Highness.”

“You have also asked me to defile this place,” the woman said frankly, folding her hands across her chest like she was used to arguing with impossible men.  Perhaps she was.  “You know I cannot let you do that.”

For once, she was the one reaching out to him.  She placed her hand on his shoulder, inhaled at the tension.

Felt the darkness awash inside him, felt the pillars of molten rage, breathed it in, drew some of it into herself, embracing it.

Letting it go.

“You had to leave,” she told him.

He had breathed with her, and she felt his muscles relax beneath her hand, if only slightly.  “Your Highness.  I must insist.  This is my grandmother’s tomb.”

A flash of fear crossed the woman’s face, and it was ugly, foreign for her. “Impossible.”

“I assure you, it is not.”

The woman was silent for long moments.  “Supreme Leader, What you speak of – ”

“I know.”  He exhaled, and Rey was shocked at the true emotion, the nostalgia and empathy that flashed through him.  “I need to find it.”

She couldn’t figure out what was wrong, and had missed what he needed, but she didn’t care.  She found herself transfixed by him, as if she had never noticed his cheekbones before, how she’d marred the one, and how breathtaking she thought he was.

She brought her other hand up, and she was leaning against his shoulder, her fingers brushing against his unblemished cheek as she inhaled his scent, familiar and leather and _home_.

She buried all this in her lake, her fingers trailing down and against his chest.

She felt him catch a thread of her contentment, and he was off-balance, wary.  Then she also felt the thread of his worry, the flash of knowledge of who was waiting for him on Coruscant.

“I’ll come help you,” she told him.

She stumbled, alone under the bridge and it was so sudden and inevitable and jarring she couldn’t help but yell, and she was breathing hard, throwing herself through exercises and striving for balance, calm –

By the time she dropped out of meditation, an hour or ten later, it was dark and she was tired.

She returned to ground level, propelling herself up the cliff face.

She knew what she had to do.

They were coming and she would wait until she had to leave for Coruscant.

Because she was going to pull him out.  No darkness, no weight of history, would stand against her.

She thought she had seen resolve from him – hers burned bright enough to sear through ice and cloud. Cold enough to solidify a magma plume.

The weight of the future hung inside her, and she’d never wavered in her purpose.

Rey knew who she was.

And she had a job to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not planning on seeing the movie for several days. Almost interrupted the flow of the chapter where describing the "Dark Age" by saying that perhaps it would be known by another moniker - the Rise of Skywalker.
> 
> Had a conversation at work today about how literally any movie in the nine volume set could be called the Rise of Skywalker. 
> 
> Some fun facts:  
> 1) Learned Amidala's mausoleum is a thing in the comics;  
> 2) Jedi often used simulacrum in the Trials; and  
> 3) Aware of new canon re: knowledge in the galaxy of Anakin and Padme but not particularly interested in that (though I sort of included it here), or in whether people know who Kylo Ren is, I am sort of pretending that they do not.


	12. I’m Getting Used to People

She’d ditched her cloak in the craft, and she thought she needed food and perhaps the dining hall would still be open for dinner. She searched out Rose’s life force and detoured to the west hangar, looking for her. 

“Commander!” Rose looked incredibly relieved, chased by confusion as she popped out from under a ship.  

“Rose!” She engulfed her in a hug and it felt so solid and powerful.  “I’m starving.”

“Do you want to change first,” Rose murmured next to her ear. 

She’d already dragged Rose halfway through the hangar before the comment’s weight hit her. 

Oh. 

She swallowed. 

Yes.  She wasn’t going to rub this in Poe’s face, that would be cruel. 

“Yes,” she said lightly.  “It’s alright that I’m kidnapping you?”

Rose was waving at the sergeant on duty. “Canton won’t mind.  He worships the ground you walk on.”

Rey had felt admiration and when she glanced at this Canton the feeling strengthened.  He snapped to attention, and she offered him a salute. 

“It’s obvious?” she murmured as they walked out of the hangar, running her fingers underneath the padded black collar.  “I’d totally forgotten.”

“You’re also a bit damp,” Rose smiled at an engineer who passed them, her hand a force on Rey’s shoulder.

“Break right,” Rey hissed.

They managed to avoid Poe and she changed quickly for the mess hall.  Rose chattered just outside the door, telling her about the celebration on Coruscant and recent political decisions around the base. 

When she stepped out, Rose stopped talking and hugged her again.  “I’m glad you’re alright.”

“More than alright,” she told her friend, meaning it.  

“You look different,” Rose murmured. “Spill.”

Her high level summary apparently left much to be desired.  “I stashed the ship a couple parsecs from his fleet.  I had to leave my ship in the hangar because I’d promised him we could travel on the Silencer.  Once we got back to the ship, we were able to open it, but when we got in there was a simulacrum of Darth Vader - and I had to send him away.  Fighting a Sith alone is not an enjoyable experience.”

Rose glared and then began to pepper her with questions.  Rey laughed, answering some. 

Finally, she said, “Yes of course he made a move.”  She smiled, thinking about how driven and relentless he had been.  “Several.”

But it was hard to laugh.  His unease still rested at the very back of her mind, he had been in pain for days and it was hurting her too. 

She took a deep breath.  

She was an ocean and alone in her mind.

For now. 

“It’s like being on Jakku,” she breathed.  “The closest thing to home I ever knew.  The desert sun was always glorious to behold, but deadly. That’s what standing next to him is like.”

Rose was silent, encouraging her to continue.  She sighed.  “He’s only focused on making me want him.  Has been for months.  Despite any doubt I have, any darkness within him, he’s been successful.” 

“Not news,” Rose rolled her eyes.  

Rey rubbed a palm across her eyes.  “I actually might have started it, I kissed him in a lift.  Then I saved his life.”

Rose started laughing uncontrollably, and reached out to drag her toward the dining hall.  “Stars, Rey.  You don’t see yourself clearly at all.  Proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Rey smiled, Rose’s words warming her.  She had done what she wanted, protected what she wanted.  A bloom of confidence appeared in her chest, causing her blurt out, “He knew exactly what he was doing.  It was incredible.”

“I’m happy for you, Rey,” Rose grinned.  

To wake up next to him every day, their bond in sync, stretching out next to that bonfire to ward off the cold of space.  

Rose had said something, and Rey shook her head.  For a moment, she had felt it, a moment in the future that was perfect in contentment and peace. Fingers trailing in the fountain in their quarters.  

Yet darkness lay in wait.  

“Rose, I need to talk to Poe and the Generals immediately,” she said, suddenly the pall of darkness real and threatening and close.  She had something to fight for, but the future could change.  She had to ensure that it would not.  

Rose became serious at her change of tone.  “Alright.  You grab food, I will send a comm to Poe.”

By the time she had taken a turn through the buffet line, nodding and smiling at people, even exchanging a few pleasantries, Poe was with Rose at the entrance to the canteen.  She hurriedly shoved part of a sandwich into her mouth and grabbed what she could carry so they could walk to headquarters.  

Poe looked glum, but greeted her warmly.  “Rey!  The notice said you arrived hours ago, but we couldn’t find you.”

“Yes, well,” Rey paused. I was freaking out?  Trying to discern the future?  Communing with the Force?  That one.  “I was meditating,” she murmured.  “There is a disturbance in the Force.”

She managed to shake him off and successfully relay the danger to the command staff left in Leia's absence.  “Commander,” one asked.  “How much can we do, really?”

“Be prepared for an incursion.”  She took a deep breath.  “I will not be going alone.  And I have to ask you a favor.”

Silence.  “Anything.” Finally an older man, a human, responded - a general that Rey didn’t know well, but he had been friends with Han.  Chewie had let him use the Falcon.

“There are several Jedi who need to relocate here.  A couple of them will come with me to Coruscant, but the others will stay here, for your protection as well as theirs.”

The man’s face, etched with laugh lines, was suddenly serious and weary and old.  “I thought my old friend ended the line.”

“No,” Rey was distracted, the Force was surging and moving and - “One has arrived.  No need for the shield.”

A proximity alert went off, and no one moved to silence it, staring at her, the room awash with hope and fear and loss.  It submerged her for a moment, places she did not know, too many people for her to see. 

“I don’t understand,” he told her, and similar looks of consternation were reflected elsewhere.  

Ah.

If there were Jedi, why had they stood by and let this happen?

“The remnants of the Order were scattered, told to hide and wait for me.  They did what they could - if you think back, you may have seen their handiwork many times without realizing.”

One woman stepped forward from the back of the room, an old grief palpable and one Rey knew too well herself.  “How many?”

“I am sorry,” she replied softly.  “You know your son passed.”

A warmth, a fleeting shadow of a thought. 

“But your daughter is coming,” Rey said slowly.  “She is anxious to see you.” 

The emotion from this woman was too raw, too familiar, and it hurt, it ground at her like a scab falling from a healing wound. 

Sparked something, flint against a rough edge.  

_“Don’t leave me!”_

They’d loved her.  That warmth, that tragedy from this woman echoed in her chest.  

The vision had drawn her away, made her see the present as though it was reflected on a viewing screen.  

The Jedi in the atmosphere felt her unease, the turmoil, not the root cause, and she had to reach out to her - _It’s personal.  We are well._

__

She’d missed some conversation, and Rose had clearly diverted when she pulled back into the present, rewound through the last few moments of consciousness, nothing vital, some pain from the woman, some further confusion from other corners. 

__

__

“Lieutenant,” she commanded, turning back toward the woman who had helped her at comms earlier - a friend, Connix.  “Deactivate proximity alert, relay to north watch that a transport is arriving at mark 3.2, clear the landing strip.” 

__

__

Connix was already prepping the ground crew as she turned back to the remaining leadership of the Resistance.

__

__

“They were not strong enough to defeat Snoke and his knights,” she told them.  “I am.”

__

__

She meditated and fought for five straight days, waiting for the handful of Jedi, preparing to fight for him.  

__

__

She had hoped that her words would keep him at bay, him knowing that she was coming, and her emotions were even keeled, unremarkable.  Nothing to attract attention. 

__

__

On the sixth day, the last transport arrived, with the woman’s daughter on board.  

__

__

She was the youngest, only a couple years younger then Rey, and woefully in need of training.  

__

__

All in and all, two pairs, masters and apprentices, a loner named Corran Horn, this girl, whose name was Sabe, and three other loners of varying skill. 

__

__

Rey was centered, moving though the Force with the grace of a swimmer and Sabe was like a tidal wave.  She left the others on the hill (where they had been camping, despite the perfectly good bunks inside) and went out to meet the woman.  After a tearful reunion between mother and daughter, Sabe turned, smiling, to Rey.  

__

__

The sands of time shifted beneath her, and a momentary glimpse of a small child, driving rain.

__

__

“Hello, Sabe,” Rey said. 

__

__

Their palms met, and another rain soaked memory jolted forward, a thin young man staring balefully down -

__

__

No. 

__

__

No. 

__

__

No. 

__

__

Impossible not to feel this rage.  

__

__

But it was just, it was hers.  

__

__

Sabe recoiled from the touch, a glimmer of fear on her face.  “I don’t normally have visions,” she murmured.  “That was . . .”

__

__

“Yes,” she ground out.  “A memory.  Apparently.”

__

__

“I thought it was a coincidence,” Sabe’s face was white.  “There was another child, I saw her only a couple of times, named Rey.  Her family did not bring her around very often.” 

__

__

It was taking everything in her not to crumple and fall and everything was a lie and he had lied and -

__

__

“Your parents must have taken you off world,” Sabe murmured. 

__

__

“Do you know who they were?” 

__

__

“No,” Sabe shrugged helplessly.  

__

__

“Thank you,” Rey murmured, trying to pull herself together. 

__

__

She needed to sleep.

__

__

She went back to the others, told them their vigil was over, that they would move into the base and start learning and training together soon.  

__

__

First she had to go to Coruscant. 

__

__

She knew they could sense an echo of her hurt and rage and tangle that she was attempting to browbeat into submission, but she also knew, as she stared into the sunset, alone, wrapped in a cloak that represented family, home, hope, history, duty.  They would not ask.

__

__

At least, not yet.  

__

__

She slept. 

__

__

She was in his quarters, aboard the _Supremacy_.  

__

__

The air felt lifeless and dark grey.  She shivered with the coldness of a world without -

__

__

His hand on her neck surprised her, she jumped, turned her head to gaze into those fathomless eyes.  

__

__

He moved suddenly, without his normal deliberateness. The kiss was deep, consuming, powerful, everything for a moment, but he pulled away and she was pinned against the bulkhead.  She took a breath, none of his warmth here in the dark of space and he murmured, “I wish I had found you on Jakku.”

__

__

She was mad at him.  But his weight was trapping her and she couldn’t feel him, couldn’t see into his heart as those eyes bore into hers.  Felt like she didn’t know what to say.

__

__

“I would have took you.  I would have kept you.  No one would have begrudged the Master of the Knights of Ren a slave.”

__

__

Fear, an old friend, crawled up her spine.  She wanted to scream, she wanted to push him away, but pressure was mounting against her throat, those eyes were cold and lifeless and cruel.  Ash. Volcanic color bled through. “Now, instead of training you, I have to break you.” 

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I would post one more chapter before I go see Rise of Skywalker. 
> 
> The shoutout to Corran Horn is for all of you who miss the EU.
> 
> I’ve now racked up three named OCs and there is only one other major one (a Jedi).
> 
> I’ve never been convinced that anyone could be the “last” Jedi. It’s too easy to hide in a galaxy where Leia would believe that there is a “Lando” system. (I just rewatched Empire)


	13. The Measure of a Murder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to finally add "AU - Canon Divergence" to my tags. I am not going to start commenting on TROS until my posting catches up to where my writing may be slightly influenced by it (a couple chapters). Also want to give everyone another week to see it so no spoilers from me yet.
> 
> But I saw it.

Reality narrowed and dulled, fizzing at the edges, the world awash with greys and blacks and fire.  Another ragged breath.  Shattered. 

She collapsed onto her hands and knees, her fall eased by his arm around her shoulders.  

She was gasping, as if it had been real, stars and space, it had been a dream, just a dream - 

“Rey,” his voice was frantic.  Warmth leeched back into her.  “Rey, you were choking.”

“You were choking me,” she rasped.  A tear she couldn’t stop slid down her cheek.

“I wasn’t!”  He said hotly, horror drenching his words, his thoughts.  It slid against her cheek, icy and leeching. 

He wasn’t really here. 

Another tear fell. 

“A dream,” but it came out as a sob.  “Only a dream.”  

His fingers curl around her shoulder, and he is warm and solid and huge and safe - but not really here. 

She raises a shaky hand to cover her eyes, a dream.  This is also a dream. 

She is so sick of dreams. 

“Please,” he growls, gathering her more securely in his arms, and she half-fell into his lap as she cried because that’s what she was doing now apparently, crying.  “Talk to me.  Let me help.”

She wanted so much to let him help.  

But she couldn’t trust him.  Couldn’t begin to delve into the turmoil within her own mind.

“What happened?” his voice is even, but his fury winds about her like a fur-lined coat, a luxury she’d experienced on the behest of Leia once in the snow.  

She focused instead on the darkness close and cold, shutting out anything else.  “I was with you on the _Supremacy_ ,” she choked out.  “You told me that you wished I had been your slave.  That you would break me.”

His chest heaved against her as he took a deep breath, his fingers running carefully through her hair, slowly, hypnotically.  Pulling it from its ties.  

She relaxed a fraction, his touch easy and familiar and not terrifying.  Not what she’d seen.

“I will not lie to you,” he said lowly, and she missed the strength of his life force, she knew now, after seeing him, what she missed when the Force brought them together.  It wasn’t enough.  “I used to dream of you in chains, at my mercy.  I thought I had locked those thoughts deep, away from where they might hurt you.”

His fingers flexed involuntarily, angrily, against her hip.  An echo of an old thought.  Barely an afterimage.

He held her by her hair, her arms were chained wide and the flash was too quick, she thought he had wanted to fuck her like that, she looked helpless.  His.  

Not really like herself at all.  

She’d never be helpless again.  Fire curled through her stomach.  He could try.  

“You could not hurt me,” she whispered.  

His breath stuttered in his chest, and he made a tortured sound deep in his throat.  “Do not test me,” he groaned.  “I am not strong enough.  I have frightened you.”

The fear was receding, hurt was taking its place, she was so hurt, he had lied, then the memory blasted back to the forefront of her mind, she didn’t want to hide it from him, it burned through any desire that had been building.  

He was silent.

She wiped a hand across her eyes, trying to gauge his sudden void.  

Shock.  Confusion.  

“You - You thought I remembered?”

She turned this over in her mind a couple times, thinking through his stillness. “That’s what you thought?”

“Well now you make it sound idiotic,” he told her coolly. 

She leaned back, and he let go of her reluctantly.  She shifted, resettled so that she was straddling his hips as he knelt on the floor of the throne room, his face lit by tongues of flame.  She reached out for his forehead, giving him a heartbeat to resist.

He did not.  

She closed her eyes. 

She found the memory in his mind quickly, sifted through his thoughts, but only found herself there a couple times - he had never spoken to her, never known her name. 

Did not know her parents. 

“No one,” she breathed.  His old conviction rocked her.

His fingers brushed her cheek and he whispered.  “I was wrong, you have never been no one.  I have never forgotten you.”

She was busy trying to find some hint in his mind of their identities something he had missed -

“I was frightened when they said there was a girl with my father,” he admitted.  “A part of me wondered if it might be you.  Even as a child, you burned brighter than every sun I had ever seen.”

She was only half listening, studying fragments of memories as he spoke.  She sensed the change in him, but ignored it, thought, who is this stranger holding my hand.  Why don’t I recognize my own father.  

“The most powerful person I’ve ever met,” his voice has smoldered, and his hands are on her, his touch is feather light against her arms, her thighs, and it heats her through.  He shifts, grabs her ass, digs into her hair, moving her roughly and even closer to him.  He feels like a furnace.  Her inhale sounds like a gasp.  “You have me completely enthralled.  I burn for you.  I breathe for you.”

Now she is distracted, his breath is hot against her skin. Pushing kisses anywhere he can reach, softly, carefully.  Her thoughts are arrested, heat sweeps through her, and she gasped, caught off guard by it.  He took advantage, forcing a daydream through her fingertips, in the forefront of his mind.

She exhaled sharply, seeing him naked and stretched over her, the muscles in his back flexed and rippling - 

“Every moment of my life is yours,” he murmurs, and darkness flickers against her eyelids, she opens her eyes.  Meets his.  “I live each day hoping I might see you.  I sleep each night hoping you will join me.”

Her breath felt jagged in her throat.  “Are you done?”

His teeth bared, and she felt him restrain himself - passion and fury identical and swirling - but his fingers tightened against her and he hissed, “I take what I can get.”

“A simple ‘I need you,’ would suffice,” she murmured, returning to his memories.  “Was there something you didn’t want me to see?”

He groaned, his forehead thunking against her forearm.  “You’ve never thought of this.  You’re going to hate me.”

“What do you mean?”

The stranger holding her hand wasn’t her father. 

“What if the traders weren’t your parents?  What if – ”

She recoiled as rain and red and ruin flashed through his consciousness.  A shallow field.  The lightning tamed to heel.  The destruction of the Order.  A man he’d cut down.  

“What if you killed my parents.”  The words fell tonelessly from her lips, froze as she remembered the vision of him facing her across the ruin of a lifetime, his helmet on, his lightsaber drawn and deadly.  No place for her, but real in his memories.    

“Please,” he looked up at her, grabbed her hands in his.  “I will spend the rest of my life atoning for my sins.” 

She was far away, the Force drew her, waves washing through, and she was calm and clear but she needed time - 

Her course did not waver - a moment in the future flashed, Coruscant, an enemy, snarling, he knew what he had done - 

He had seen it too, his fury bathing her in its familiar warmth, he would prevent this, he would drown this enemy in flame - 

She rolled off her bunk, attempting to dive straight into the amount of meditation that was needed to subdue this amorphous rage - Obi-Wan had shown her mistakes made in the heat of fury, and she could not afford a mistake.  

She had spent the last six days preparing, and she did not have many more left.

She had started doing push-ups, eyes closed, and then there was pounding on her door, Finn - 

She flipped to her feet, was there in a blur.  

“What did I do?” she asked him, seeing half the question before it was breathed into the air. 

Finn exhaled, used to her jumps in time by now.  “You turned the shield generator on in your sleep.”

Hm. 

“A precaution,” she said, thinking how her shield wasn’t just protection, it was a cloaking device.  “Apparently I’m contacting the Supreme Leader.  Give me a few minutes.”

She shut the door in his face as he spluttered, she changed, considered. 

Had there been a part of her that had noted this possibility?

Her parents were dead. 

She’d known that for a long time. 

Did it matter that he might have had a hand in their demise? 

The crime of killing a parent was far worse than causing the death of a stranger.  

And hadn’t she forgiven him for killing Han?

The rage had quieted before it had reached full bloom.  She shut everything out, focused on her own emotions, meditating briefly and the living Force sang through her, sang with the spring of crops and blood of wild animals and hum of the forest.  She drew back in, closer to her quarters, opened herself up to the life force around her, the people on this base, the Jedi and Padawans who had come, exhaled darkness and death and felt the others waking up, gathering their things, getting ready to meet her.  

She opened her eyes.  

“That was quick,” Luke observed.  

“Do you know the answer?” she asked, nonplussed.

“No,” the word was etched in regret.  “I did not know that you had been to the Temple.  I did not know that you had met my wayward nephew.” 

“I was no longer seeking this answer.”  She exhaled, slinging the cloak around her.  “If my parents were Jedi . . .”

Luke nodded.  “There have been very few children born to two Force-sensitive parents.  Your powers are not surprising.” 

She folded her hands into her cloak.  She had a job to do.  “The Force has barely concerned itself with these Knights of Ren.  I don’t understand.  Do they have the power to divert all attention from themselves?”

“No one has power that absolute,” he told her.  “My nephew’s aura obscures much of your focus.  Broaden your senses.” 

Finn knocked on the door.  

“One more minute!” she yelled. 

Closed her eyes. 

Luke was like the sun, and his gravity sucked her in momentarily before she -

Pain.

She screamed.

Luke’s voice echoed, “Concentrate, Rey!”

She gritted her teeth against it, and then flashes of emotions, sounds and - 

She opened her eyes.

Luke was gone. 

She pushed out the door to meet Finn, striding with purpose past him, concentrating still on the one vague sense of foreboding that threaded its way through her. 

Darkness lies before you. 

It was taking shape, a feeling of deception and a play greater than - 

Ah.  

Insurrection.


	14. I Knew, Didn’t I

Finn had been talking, and she had to pull herself back from the contours of sedition within the First Order to interrupt him.  “Did you notify Lieutenant Connix?” 

Finn gaped at her for a moment before spluttering, “Yes, but – ”

“Good,” she said briskly.  “Also please tell her to deactivate the Level 3 alert.”

She had felt it pulsing through the portion of the base that housed active duty personnel, though the lower level alert was not impacting the living quarters. 

Finn did as she asked, and then said, “You know part of the fleet is going to Coruscant?”

She’d expected that.  “Yes.  You’re coming?”

“We had planned on it,” he nodded.  “What are we walking into?”

“You’ll see,” she said grimly.  It was still taking shape in her mind, the pieces hadn’t fallen into place.  But she was certain in the inevitably of conflict. 

After pulling herself from the throne room, she couldn’t sense him to warn him.  If she could have, perhaps she wouldn’t have needed to make a formal call. A thread of unease wound through her. 

Finn said, “Rose is meeting us at command.”

“Good.  Which general is on duty?”

“Calrissian.  Poe is on duty as well.”

“Excellent.”  Rey felt a presence coming up the next hallway, and she turned to intercept.  “Good morning, Annju.”

The woman was Twi’lek and ageless.  She smiled at Rey, and her warmth was genuine and bright.  “Good morning, Master Skywalker.  We felt the disturbance in your chambers.”

“Which one?” she muttered, before catching herself.  “I mean – ”

The woman laughed.  “And who is your friend?”

Rey introduced Finn, laughing herself as the Jedi almost immediately started asking questions that Finn spluttered at.  

Her mind drifted.  

Annju Tarkona was a moon, quiet and dark and reflective.  Needing gravity to tether, a massive bastion of life and energy.  

She had been found by a Jedi as a child, but had not been brought to the Temple – the purge occurred the same day she had been tested.  They hadn’t known to catch her.  But she knew.  Her family knew.  

When Luke had destroyed the Sith, she had been bouncing around the Outer Rim as a former slave, a pilot and a mercenary, waging her own private war against the enemy that had destroyed her chance at a better life.  

She’d found Luke.  

Later, Kylo Ren had not been able to find her – years as a slave dancer provided her with the perfect avenue of escape.  

Rey did not know this woman, and already she trusted her with her life.  

She knew what lay before them.  She knew what the cost might be.  She knew the weight of oppression and the price of peace.   

Annju glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, but didn’t break her conversation with Finn.  Rey breathed deep, centering, moving through the Force, away from the woman beside her.  

He was silent. 

Disquiet moved through her, but she was not sure if this was from the myriad problems she’d just unveiled or –

Annju’s hand crept to her lightsaber, and Rey asked, “Do you feel it too?” 

The other woman looked at her intently, her movement had not been as pronounced as Rey had thought, breaking from her discussion with Finn about Rose.  “It is interesting being around you, Master Skywalker,” she murmured.  “The bond you have formed with all of us heightens my senses, particularly toward you.”

“That sounds unfortunate,” she winced, a reminder that she had to be more centered, purposeful.  Quiet.   

Annju laughed, an easy musical sound, belaying the years of hardship Rey saw right below her skin.  “Not for me,” she said.  “I’ve only heard of such a bond.  I have not experienced it.”

“Perhaps with your next Padawan,” Rey murmured, but no weight was behind the thought.  Time bent away from them, distracted by an approach –

Was it her own plan, her conviction, blocking her view of the fork in the road?  

Annju could not see the turn clearly either.  She merely felt the foreboding in the air, in Rey’s aura.  

Finn interrupted, “Is something coming now?  I thought you said that danger was still several days away.” 

“Both,” Rey said without hesitation.  “Let’s go.” 

General Calrissian was in the command center closest to the main hangar, which had massive fortified windows overlooking the parade ground, landing strip, and to the left her field and bridge.  Her bridge was bustling - people were streaming into the parade ground and in and out of the hangar, bustling around squadrons, preparing for the fleet to leave for Coruscant.  

Connix met her at the door.  “Commander, we are working on the connection you requested.  We have not been successful so far.” 

Rey was floating in an ocean, mused, “Why not?”

“We’ve been deferred, sir.  We did not tell them specifically that you had initiated contact.” 

“Do it,” she murmured, folding her hands into her cloak. 

The general nodded at her.  “We received the news regarding the Knights of Ren from General Organa the day you arrived,” he told her.  “Finn said that you have additional information?” 

“Yes, General.  I will explain once we get the connection online.”

Rose came in, saluting the general.  Rey hadn’t.  She felt a twinge of self-consciousness. 

Rose pushed through Finn, who sighed and let her pass.  She put a hand on Rey’s shoulder, and Rey smiled at her.  “Rose, this is Jedi Knight Annju Tarkona."

The woman nodded, a smile crinkling around her eyes.  “Well met, youngling.  I see that you are close with Master Skywalker.”

“She is a good friend,” Rose grinned back.  “Even when she is careening headlong into danger.”

This brought Rey further into the present - “I do not - ”

Connix put a hand over her comm set. “Admiral Hux wishes to speak with you.”

The ocean roiled, settled.  Heaved in a way she didn’t understand.    

She nodded.  “Put him through.”

The hologram flickered to life before her, and she stared impassively through, wishing that it was Leia.  

“Master Skywalker.”

“Admiral Hux,” she said.  “To what do I owe the pleasure.”

“Might I assume this is your next act of treason in an effort to become Supreme Leader?” 

“You have advantage of me, sir,” she murmured, but her heart had sped up, the split in the path was looming –

“You have not returned the Supreme Leader to the _Supremacy_ , nor has he returned of his own volition.”

She’d engaged the cloaking mechanism in her sleep.  

“Surely he has sent word, Admiral.”

His lips curled back with something like disdain.  “He claims to have made an unscheduled detour before returning for the celebration.”

“I would believe him, if I were you, Admiral,” she told him, the hair on the back of her neck rising.  “He will not take kindly to an effort to the contrary in his absence.” 

The transmission cut off at her signal.

“Lieutenant,” the word was heavy and sand in her mouth.  “Proximity scan?”

“There is a ship orbiting the moon, Commander,” Connix told her, her voice even and her gaze unwavering.  “It’s been there for approximately one hour.”

“Deactivate the shield.”  The words were out of her mouth before she had thought them through, and the general barked, “Commander?”

Time spiraled away.  

“Deactivate the shield,” she repeated steadily.  

Annju tensed beside her, she felt a quick call from the barracks, but sent a wave of patience (that she did not truly feel) back toward the rest of the Force-sensitives there.  Rose was still, glancing between her and the general.

General Calrissian nodded. 

A moment passed.  

“Rey, what do you see?” Rose asked softly. 

She exhaled carefully.  “A tipping point.” 

Oh. 

The maelstrom of sun and stars and flame. 

Oh. 

The red alert screamed, and she was frozen, arrested by this turn of events, by this moment before her.  A moment she should have foreseen.  For once in her life, her focus had been too broad. 

No one else moved.  The outline of a ship entering the atmosphere blinked blue on the main control screen.

Whoop.  Whoop. 

Time stood still.

Turned.  

Whoop.  Whoop. 

Thousands of souls turned with it.  

Whoop.  Whoop. 

Annju’s fingers latched onto her arm as the alarm abruptly shut off, the landing strip lights flashed clear and blue and red.  

“Master Skywalker,” she breathed.  “Are you sure?”

Rey had flipped the switches, activated the lights, signaled the landing crew without thinking, without moving, without asking permission. Static electricity jumped between her and Annju, making her inhale sharply. 

“Apologies, General,” she was not sorry.  She was one with the Force.  Rose burned bright, rested a hand on her other arm in support.  Rose was earthy and strong and sure. But Annnju’s fear still curled through her, sour and jarring.  

“My friend,” she murmured turning to the Jedi, reaching down to take her hand, squeeze it.  “I am sure of this.”   

“Luke told us stories,” she breathed, looking deep into Rey’s eyes.  “About his father.  About how there had been conflict.  How he turned, at the end.  Sometimes, I wondered if he told them to spare his memory.”

“No,” she told her new friend, breathing shallowly, monitoring the rest of the room, still stunned silent, many staring at her or the general.  “I showed you.  I have seen him.  Anakin Skywalker.”

“I believe you.”  Annju squeezed her hand back, dropped it, returned her lightsaber to her belt. Rey had barely realized she was so unnerved, so sure was she of this path.

The general came to stand next to the other Jedi, his hands white knuckled.  “Nothing else on the radar, Lieutenant?” 

Connix snapped out of her stupor, checked the readout.  “No, sir.” 

Poe burst through the doors and skidded to a stop when he saw Rey.  “You knew?” he asked, an accusation.  

Rey sighed.  “Know is such an imprecise word.” 

The Silencer continued to blink, etched in blue, on the screen before their eyes.  

 “Should I clear him for landing, sir?” Connix interjected quietly.  

But the ship was already screaming through the atmosphere, down to the planet’s surface.  

“Yes,” she said anyway.  

“He didn’t bring anyone with him?” Poe’s voice was incredulous, bordering on frenetic.  

“No,” Rey told him, conducting her own search beyond the base, the atmosphere, the sky.  “He is alone.”

“Why?” 

Poe’s word hung in the air and it glittered and spun like something she could pluck and place on her belt, like a talisman. 

Why. 

She inhaled, dropped further into meditation, away from this place. 

Away from him. 

To the river, down and down where the center of this planet pulsed, strength and power flowing and passive and alive.  Through the light and energy, she felt Annju join her, strengthen her resolve, her peace. 

She reminded herself, you are not alone. 

The red alert started going off again, drawing her back into the present. 

Whoop.  Whoop. 

She opened her eyes. 

Whoop.  Whoop. 

Connix deactivated it, staring between the general and Poe. “It came from ground control, sir.” 

Poe had come into the room to stand with them, and she caught his curious graze sliding back to Annju momentarily.  

“I called the Jedi here.  He must have heard.”  She wasn’t feeling much, but – “He’s here to talk.”  

Her voice did not waver, but the conviction in it almost felt foreign to her. She’d believed in him, once.  “I will find out what he wants.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this before I saw TROS, same as next couple chapters. Annju is another OC. 
> 
> First thought on TROS: Annoyingly good but still incomplete take on Leia. Felt like I had failed her somehow when Rey called her Master (I have no doubt that Leia would have completed her training - but I also think she would have figured out being a Jedi and a politician somehow). That was super dope and made me choke up. Obviously more would have been done with her character if Carrie (RIP) had not passed. Was thrilled by the beginning training montage with Rey on the base - it was amazing. Better than I had imagined.


	15. Leap of Faith

She couldn’t feel the impact from her vantage point, but she couldn’t miss the ripple below.  

She winced, confusion and fear and hope lancing through her, jarring and disjointed.  People ran for cover, crowding away from the ship in all directions.  Some looked up at the command post.  Air cut like glass in her lungs.  Too many thoughts and hearts and minds.  Connix activated an alarm that merely stated, “Stand by,” in thirty second intervals.  

_Feel the conflict within him, Rey._

Not right now, she mentally hissed. 

Annju cringed beside her.  “That – ”

“Later.”  Rey was staring at the ship as it settled and reigned her senses in, trying to focus past the clamor, without his feelings clouding her judgment, but she knew he was here, he was –

His sturdy frame filled the cavernous maw of the Silencer, dark and foreboding and impenetrable, her breath hitched at the sight of the helmet, what was he –

She’d almost expected him to come out, lightsaber drawn.  

The helmet tilted, as if he had sensed something.  

He strode down the gangplank, his cloak sweeping across the metal expanse, his long legs eating up the distance effortlessly.  No one near him seemed quite sure what to do.  Most of the Resistance soldiers had drawn civilians to cover, but they were staring, unsure.  The world was frozen, motionless, in the wake of time standing still.  It started turning again, spinning away from Rey. 

Her own breath rattled in her ears.  

“Stand by.”

He stepped onto the earth of her planet, and she felt it hum through her skin, her muscle and bone.  A pillar of fire.  The green earth welcomed him, blazed through her, echoing life and passion and heat.  

Annju shifted beside her, marveling at Rey’s connection to this place. 

“Stand by.”

Her feet started moving, and she was right before the full-length window, her fingertips brushing the surface, could he see her?

He’d only taken a step or two from the gangway.  He bent down suddenly, a knee to the earth.  His fingertips spread, and she remembered the stories that she had heard so many months ago, of him arriving on a planet, setting foot, touching the ground, saying, “She is not here.”  Turning.  Leaving.  

His head snapped up.  

Silence quivered behind her, and her hand was clamped across her mouth to stop her own voice from escaping.

“Stand by.”

He took the helmet off, his hair neatly combed and styled, like the first time she’d seen him, his face marred by only her own touch, his gaze sure and steady and pinning her far and away above him.  

Planted it in the dirt next to him. 

His eyes kindled the embers in her chest, and she couldn’t believe it for a moment, still spared the thought to be stunned that he had risked this, that he had come into enemy territory and come for her. 

He bowed his head, and she could take a breath, escape from the power of his gaze, try to understand what he was doing –

He dropped his other knee to the earth and then he was there before her, kneeling, like to a sovereign or a –

“Kriffing seriously?”  The exasperated huff escaped her unwittingly, and she took a step back from the window, thinking –

_“What is thy bidding, my Master.”_

She couldn’t help banging a hand against the glass, the pain of the respirator slicing through her own throat.  Something rattled on the console behind her. 

“Stand by.”

“This is all he knows,” Annju said behind her, her voice carrying and sure.  She knew.  Annju, out of all of them, actually understood.  What this meant.  “A Sith bends the will of others, requires supplication.”

“I do not,” she gritted out, and his eyes were closed now, he’d settled onto his haunches, meditating, waiting.  

Vulnerable.  

Vulnerable . . .

Annju started forward as Rey disrobed, leapt back, bounding to the far side of the room for the necessary leverage, her mind blanking with focus. 

Certainty that she had to get to him.  Now.

“Stand by.”

Annju’s lightsaber slid through the blasterproof glass like butter, shifted, rounded out a space – 

Rose yelled, “No, Poe!”

She didn’t have time for that, or for Finn who was yelling something indistinguishable at her.  She turned back, set herself, breathing steadily, seeing only the glass before her and Annju methodically making her way through it for her leap. 

She ran. 

Vaulted off the edge of the control panel, dove at the window, her lightsaber warm against her palm, she went through it hands first, the piece of glass Annju had prepared falling away before her with barely a shatter, and she was falling, flipped down through the air to land on the same ground as him. 

Annju was only a beat behind her as she pelted across the parade ground, every fiber of her being filling with the power of his presence, tearing a yell from her chest, “Ben!” 

Sabe was faster. 

Annju was yelling at the girl, “No!  Sabe!”

Rey threw Luke’s lightsaber, straight and true, Sabe had been closer to him, had time on her side, but the blue blade raced out to meet her own, a foot from his face, he had to have felt –

His hand shot out, wrapped around the hilt of the blade she had mended, rose to stare down at the girl impassively, like she had woken him from a deep sleep and he did not know where he was. 

Sabe didn’t stop.  She started hammering at him in earnest, but he merely slid to stop her, back and forth, an elegant, effortless dance for him as Rey, aghast, paused with Annju by her side.  

Her moment of hesitation passed and Rey blasted them apart, lightning arcing against their blades, separating them.  She charged toward Sabe, Annju had the other woman’s lightsaber –

Sabe was crying, and Rey collapsed on the ground with her, Annju standing over them, her own cobalt beam humming, watching, waiting.  Eyeing him as he stood, his legacy burning in his hands. 

“He killed my brother, Master!” Sabe could barely choke the words out through her tears.  

“I know,” Rey swallowed.  “He has killed those I have loved too.”

She opened the part of her mind that housed the memories of Snoke, bringing that abuse and power and despair to the forefront, to show her.  To make her feel.  

The corruption and manipulation of the Sith. 

 _But he avenged them._  She could not say these words aloud.   _He killed Snoke._  

“He was wounded, deceived.  Do not match hate with hate,” she said aloud.  Knowing Sabe could hear it all.  

Rey felt the past cut Sabe to her core, and her breath slowed.  

Still a Padawan, really.  

She looked up at Annju, considering.  The woman cocked her head to look at her, an eyebrow raised. 

Perhaps with your next Padawan.  

Now the words felt heavy with the weight of destiny.  

The hate was still strong and fiery inside the young woman.  But the deception, the evidence of abuse and pain that Rey had shared had attempted to smother the flames.  

Sabe’s mother struggled through a throng of people, silent, watching. Rey rose, pulled the other woman to her feet. 

“Apparently it wasn’t entirely his fault, Mother,” she said in a strained tone, wiping her face.  “I have much to consider.”

“As do I,” Annju joined them, put a hand on Sabe’s shoulder.  “You have much to learn, youngling.”

Rey signaled to Rose in the tower – her friends had turrets targeting Kylo Ren.  

If that’s who was standing behind her. 

Her decision had already been made. 

She turned to face him, and he immediately sheathed the blade, the sudden quiet unnerving.  

“Ben Solo.”

The words sizzled and stirred the air, sending ripples of confusion out around them. 

She only had eyes for him.  

“Stand by.”

He sank back down to one knee, offered her the link to their past masquerading as a weapon.  “Master Skywalker.”

It came to her hand so that she did not have to move closer, figure out what she was supposed to do. 

Everyone she knew was watching.  Her world.  Her entire world was watching.  

_I told you.  No one can know._

His face was impassive, strong, did not flinch at her words.  He was collected, composed.  But there were circles under his eyes.  “I know I am nothing to you,” he rumbled, and his helplessness was like a wave to the neck, pushing her under the ocean.  His voice was clear and sure – his resolve.  “But I will do whatever you ask.  I pledge myself to your teachings.”

The words were ancient and painful.  So much pain. 

For a moment, a dark corner of her mind thought, the most powerful man in the galaxy.  Hers.  

Hers.  

His chin tilted up slightly, his lips softening, his eyes blazing.  

She struggled out of it, she was angry with him for doing this, for kneeling before her like she was them – _There is only one acceptable scenario where you kneel before m_ e, she snapped.  She hadn’t moved a muscle, all of her energy was maintaining her composure. _This isn’t it._  

His gaze sharpened, and he made an involuntary movement with his hands, as if to push himself up.  His lips flattened into a smirk and it was hard to breathe for the smoke from the flames in her chest.   _As my lady commands._  

She’d meant it as a joke, but she hadn’t sounded like she was entirely kidding. 

Now he was thinking about it, and she saw a snippet of a thought, his head buried between her legs –

He had to stop looking at her like that. 

His head bowed in acquiescence, but his desire still wafted around her.   _As you wish.  Master_.  

The lightsaber hummed to life, reacting to her pang of fury before it fled, swept away by the river that flowed through her.  Deep.  Life-giving and ancient.  She closed her eyes for a moment, reaching out into the world beyond. 

He rose, towering above her, and she thought perhaps he was smug again, the thrill of the risk he’d taken coursing through him.  

“Do you wish to test me?” His elation was contagious and she realized she was only angry because her instinct was to not believe it – was he mocking her?  

But he had found her.  

He could have only done that if he had embraced the group think of the Jedi. 

“Oh, I will.  Later.” She disengaged the blade.  

He bowed his head slightly, their bond blazing and filling her with the might of a supernova.  Distracting her for a moment.  So she didn’t hear him make the decision – “May I escort you to Coruscant, Master?”

She bit the inside of her cheek at his audacity, as a swell of whispers ricocheted out from their meeting.  She gestured upwards, where the Jedi craft hovered to a halt, called at the slightest suggestion from her.  “Get in before I give you another scar to match.”

He bent his knees, springing up effortlessly onto the open gangway above.  She met Annju’s gaze, which was deeply amused.  “I’ll be back,” she growled.  “Rose,” she said tersely into her commlink.  “Tell Poe that if he blows up the Silencer I won’t build him that stupid holoboard interface in the lounge that he keeps clamoring on about.”

“Copy, Commander.”

She sprang up after him, willing the gangway shut and sending the craft on a flight path across the lake and toward the mountain range she’d explored twice.  She glanced down as the hatch clanged shut, catching a final glimpse of his helmet, broken and forgotten in the dust below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really wanted to call this chapter "Get in loser, we're going training."
> 
> Second thought on TROS: would have been so much better if the same director made both the Last Jedi and TROS. Part of me genuinely feels like Rian Johnson set the world on fire because he knew he wouldn't have to sweep up the ashes and that is incredibly unfair.
> 
> Thoughts presented here led me to write this fic - what if Kylo Ren came to kneel before Rey?
> 
> “I will do whatever you ask. I pledge myself to your teachings.” - Anakin Skywalker


	16. I Still Don't Know the Words

She found him in the training chamber, with its blinking, innocuous and dormant control panels, no hint of cloud or carbonite chamber, his hands clasped behind his back and white-knuckled.  “This is where he was,” he murmured.  He turned to meet her gaze, self-loathing twisting through the air, though not his face.  “Where I failed you.”

“That is not what happened.”  Rey exhaled, trying to keep a level head, finding that she did not want to run from this, that she wanted to just – “Explain yourself.”  He shrugged carefully at her not-quite-sharp tone, his eyes darting behind her as if he had heard the respirator.  “He isn’t here.  I wouldn’t have made you come if he was.”

“I’d deserve it,” he breathed, his voice equally even, a low rumble.  “I already told you why I’m here.”

Her patience snapped.  “What were you thinking?  Coming here!  Showing off – ”

“I was not showing off,” he growled, his fragile calm sparking against the flint of her irritation.  “I meant every word I said.”

“ _Embarrassing_ me – ”

His gaze never wavered, matching the determination that had never faltered since he’d set foot on her planet.  The set of his shoulders was that of a general preparing for a long battle.  “This is a war.  I just surrendered.  How is that embarrassing for you?”

This made her pause, aghast.  A general preparing to throw his weight behind his former enemy. 

Her irritation flamed stronger, how _could_ he – “You won’t follow through!  And then where will I be, undermined and abandoned – ”

“I am yours,” he hissed, and he was much closer than she had realized and the strain between them was suddenly very real.  “This is not some joke to me.  I do not pledge fealty lightly.”

“They’ll challenge us,” her mind was spinning ahead, not quite centered, her own fears getting the best of her for a moment.  “They’ll belittle you, call you weak for bending your knee to a woman.  How will your ego handle that?”

No flash of fear reverberated.  No pause or shock.  Only resolve.  “I am yours to command.”

“But when you grow sick of the jokes and knowing looks?” Her heart was in her throat.  “When they say you are less than a man because your woman keeps you on a short leash?”

“Only a fool would disrespect you in the manner you describe,” he said softly.  “No one would dare.”

“If they dared?  If they,” she swallowed, the fire in his eyes real and vibrant and sane.  She wanted to shake him.  “If they make crude remarks, lewd jokes.”

His lips curled back from his teeth, a snarl.  “I would defend you, unless you instructed otherwise.”

“But they would be attacking you!”

“To attack me would be to disrespect you.”  His ire at some perceived slight flared against her chest.  “But I can differentiate between a bruising to my ego and an attack on you.”

She was speechless for a moment, at a loss for words.  She had not considered how he fit into her plan aside from that he simply did. 

Now she saw that this might be the only way.

“This is purely professional,” he murmured, bowing his head.  Pressing his advantage.  “I need to complete my training.  You need to rebuild the Order, to ensure the livelihood of the Republic.  I will help you.  I’ll guard your back, every step of the way.”

She turned away, needing to gather her thoughts.

The Force was calm and sure and strong, afterimages of the past flickered around her, but her world was at peace, she was at peace.  Everything felt right.

It was shocking.

The only other time she had felt such certainty was when she tracked down Luke, asked him to train her.

This was her destiny.

She wasn’t good at this.  Expressing emotions.  He was annoyingly good at it.

Their time aboard the Silencer had changed everything for her.  She knew what it was like now, being with him.  And it made her want it even more.  She hadn’t had much time to think, but now they were alone and –

She turned back.  Everything had changed.  He had changed. 

He was studying her, and he said, “I can’t tell what you are thinking.”

Looking at him again made her heart clench, thinking about Sabe’s lightsaber, millimeters from his face, dying it a hypothermic blue.

If he was with her, she wouldn’t have to worry about him doing something stupid.

His head tilted.  “You’re worried about me?”

“Because you’re reckless, laserbrain,” she griped.

A small smile curled.  “I try, Master.”

“Ok,” she hissed, taking a step closer to him, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin increase improbably.  “Here are some rules.  If we do this, you only call me Master in public, and sparingly.  In public you behave.  I swear to stars and ruin, I’ll throw you out an airlock.”

“I believe you,” he didn’t look at all abashed, and he cautiously closed the distance between them, staring down at her, still trying to gauge her mood.  He bent to murmur in her ear, “What if I misbehave in private?”

She had already been reaching for him, because suddenly rules seemed hard and the outside world very far away.

And this was easy.  The heat between them.  She shivered as his hands slid up her back, he sighed at the contact. He’d missed her.

She combed her fingers through his neat hair, messing it from its pomaded shape.  She said lightly, “Your punishment might involve you getting on your knees.”

His smirk was only visible for a moment as he raised a hand to thread through her hair, tilt her head towards him.  Then he was kissing her, her eyes fluttered closed, and it was as if the fire truly burned, for she saw the glow of light behind her lids. She was barely distracted. He was firm and insistent and parted her lips so that he could taste her, tangle their tongues, and she felt it deep inside, sparking her to burning.  A corner of her mind felt him shifting something, engaging –

She gave a startled laugh as he grabbed her hips, slid his palms under her ass and lifted her up against him.  “What – ”

He dove toward her mouth again, smiling himself, his jubilation contagious, overwhelming.  “That is not a punishment,” he murmured between deep kisses.  “I will always please you, my lady.”

She wanted to retort but gasped when he put her down and she blinked and another laugh startled from her.

He’d morphed the training chamber into the throne room.

“Close enough,” she said breathlessly.  He had already pulled her leggings down to the tops of her boots, intent on his task.  “I doubt this is what is supposed to happen here,” she gasped as he knelt, his fingers spreading her thighs.  He looked striking and immovable between her knees as he peered up at her through his lashes. 

“You’re finally in my throne. And you’re already wet,” he murmured, pressing into her, the pressure taunting and unbearably sweet, and she inhaled hoarsely. His eyelashes fluttered down, he kissed her inner thigh. 

She arched, her fingers scrabbling against the wide arms of the throne, his temptation making her breath short. “You’re so slow it might not last,” she growled.

He looked up again, the challenge blazing through him and she was spiraling in the feeling of his lifeblood, scorching her inside and out. Searing, rippling through the air and he was voracious with it, wanted to burn himself into her and make her scream. “You like it,” he breathed, sure and thrilled and pleased. One finger teased her, and she jolted, her hips moving of their own accord as he held her down with his other hand. “Writhing. Waiting.” 

She couldn’t dispute it because he used anticipation like a weapon and he used it well.  “Someday I’m going to wipe that cocky smirk right off – ”

He licked deep and she groaned, seeing literal stars, the starfire igniting within her and the room was humming with their combined passion, strength. He had her pinned to a place of triumph and downfall, a monolith of his power and yet he knelt before her. She cried out as he turned to her clit, circling it with his tongue and she had to grip the edges of the throne. “Oh - don’t stop!”

His tongue was just as skilled as his fingers, and she was thrashing, couldn't budge his huge hands on her thighs. Relentless. His intensity winding through her like a river of molten lava. His pent up rage and passion and time he had spent wanting her. 

She finally speared her fingers in his hair, digging into him and he made a sound deep in his throat, she knew what he wanted – “Please!” she begged at the edge, lost with him, "Please, please!" His teeth scraped against her clit. She screamed. 

It broke around her and he was there in the brightness behind her eyelids as she felt tears, panting as their energy twined and pulled through her with such strength and drive it was hard not to lose herself in the might of a desert storm. 

She was gone for a few minutes, spinning out through the universe, seeing nebulas and novas and dying stars and then, suddenly –

Jarring.  Unrest, a threat on the city of a planet.

She came back to herself, blinking, and he had picked her up, rightened her clothes, he was holding her in the massive throne. Holding her like she may yet disappear, at any moment. The bonfire was still roaring, and with a start she realized she had not felt him there in those minutes out in the cosmos, her sudden vision. 

“Where were you?” He asked, and he sounded concerned, and she felt that there was still a tangle between them, consternation within him.  He thought she felt cold.  “Are you alright?”

“I’m more than alright,” she reassured him, feeling loose and languid despite the pounding of her heart.

The world had crashed back in.

She was tucked under his chin; she didn’t have to meet his gaze.  “What do we do about this.”

“Which part?” His deep voice rumbled against her cheek. 

She gestured at the vision of the throne room, which was quiet and still.  No fire.  No guards.  “This.  Your leadership.”  She sighed, still content and his warmth still burning in her chest, but it had to be said.  “Us.”

His arms tightened, bands of flame and marvelous strength, pride flared.  “I’ll be here for as long as you’ll have me.”

“No one can know,” but the words felt used and stale and useless on her tongue.

His fingers dug into her hair at the base of her skull, massaging at tightness that she hadn’t realized was there.  Storms of rage and fire were quiet, were burning low and even.  He was resolute.  “I won’t cross the line in public, Rey.  I promise.”

She took a deep breath.  There was more that she wanted to say. 

She didn’t know how.

Something else prickled at the base of her skull.

She was on her feet, her lightsaber against her palm instantly, staring at him.  “Did you feel that?”

He rose as well, quite the sight before the throne, but incomplete.  He didn’t seem to have his weapon.  “Yes.  I know who it is.”

She stared at him.  “Where is your lightsaber?”

“I left it on the Silencer.  I don’t know how to cleanse it.”

She called one of the abandoned lightsabers in the craft to her and left it spinning between them.  “Well.  What kind of teacher would I be if I did not provide you with a training blade?”

He chuckled in his throat.  “This is where I would say thank you, Master.”

“Save it for an audience,” she inhaled, wondering if the others had felt the threat.  “Is he coming here?”

“They,” he said quietly, “are coming here.”

“That’s . . .” she thought about the base, the chaos that could ensue.  “Better than the alternative, I guess.  Do they always move in pairs?”

“Generally, yes.”

“Your mother only saw three.”

“There are not many left.  She might be right.”

Rey rolled her shoulders, began to stretch, her mind flickering through the past.  “If there are only two, there is no need to send an alert, correct?  Should I call Annju?”

His lips curled at the mention of her name.  “Anyone but that woman.”

“Poe?” Rey said with a laugh, bending low into her stretch.

He was silent for a heartbeat too long.  She looked over her shoulder, seeing his furrowed brow.  Her breath hitched as he flitted to her side, gathering her up into his arms.  He had moved so quickly she barely had a chance to laugh – and he wasn’t laughing.  His grip was forceful and promising, suddenly the embers were stoking to a blaze.  “You like it when I’m jealous, don’t you,” he breathed.

The anticipation was such a rush for her.  Every time she was in his arms.  It felt new and exciting and surreal.

She leaned back against him, savoring this moment, judging his emotions.  “What is with your hatred of him?  I honestly don’t get it.”

He was so tense and she sensed confusion as she relaxed into him, feeling the warmth and power bleeding into her.  Nothing else was like this.

He murmured, “Is this another thing I thought you knew?”

His flicker of hatred suddenly felt more like fear, and she cocked her head, thinking.  “I don’t know what you mean.”

He sighed, and a couple images – visions? – bled through to her.  They were older, but clear and drenched in bitterness.

Poe, holding her hand at the base, laughing. 

Poe embracing her.

Poe sitting with her in the grass of her field, drawing her down for a kiss.

She started a bit at that last one, pushing against his arms but he only tightened his grasp, inhaling deeply, drawing her scent in, and his desire punched through her, leaving her breathless.  She loved how broad he was, how he had to hunch his shoulders to engulf her and how he shuddered when he was overcome with emotion.  What wasn’t given away on his face surged through his muscles and tendons.  He vibrated now, and she reached a hand up to tangle in his hair, ran her fingers down his neck, as he steadied himself.  He exhaled, kissed her right below her jawline.  She felt so warm and content.  Then he angled his mouth, sucking against her skin and she was alert, alive, hissing, “Yes.”

“I have been tortured by those flickers of a future I wanted so desperately to prevent,” he growled, his hands starting to roam and she gasped as he cupped her breasts.  He started to massage her and she was molten and moaning but still a piece of her had room to be incredulous – he had really thought –

“I imagined you like this, moaning for him, sunk in my deepest pit of self-loathing.  It wasn’t until I touched you for the first time while you were eating lunch with him that I realized I may not have waited too long.  Perhaps he hadn’t made his play.  Even if he had, perhaps I still had time.”

“I didn’t know,” she breathed.  “I would not have made jokes.”

“I see that now,” he growled against the shell of her ear, and one hand was flat against her stomach, her breath was quick and wild.  “I want to make you scream again.”

She bucked slightly, his large hand a promise and a brand, the words sinking into her skin, but – “And I want to fuck you against a wall, but we don’t have time for that right now.”

He groaned, his hands sliding back to her waist, one shallow thrust of his hips arresting her, teetering on the brink as he nipped her ear.  “Why did you have to say that, my dear.”

She twisted, lashed into his mouth with her tongue, once, twice.  “Just so you know for the future.”  He didn’t have a monopoly on words etched in flame.  She steadied herself, drawing his heat into her through the kiss, sighing with the warmth and exquisiteness of it.  She drew back, calmer.  “Tell me what’s coming.”

He bowed slightly, his eyes still smoldering, kissed her fingers.  “Nothing I cannot handle for you, my dear.”

They exited the craft, waited on the lakeshore.  Rey began to meditate. 

She was alone in an ocean, her mind on Coruscant. Why had these two come?

She came back to the present, some rocks around her crashing to the ground unheeded, as he cut through the air, spinning and twisting, his teeth grit in determination.

He seemed fine, indeed never had she seen him so bright, what –

Ah.

The one was taunting him, targeting her. “Looks like she likes being on her knees – did you train her for that?”

Annju settled beside her.  “This sounds fun.”

Rey snorted, smiled at the other woman, winced as she thought back through consciousness – _“Want to share, Kylo?  Maybe she’d like my dick better than yours.”_

“Master Horn gave me a lift,” Annju said, as if that explained anything.  “These two seem more than manageable.  What is waiting for us on Coruscant?”

“A few more,” Rey murmured.  “Some sort of mutiny.”  She sent him a pulse of energy, focusing, with him as he twirled through a final combination and lodged his new lightsaber in the other man’s gut.

Exhaled.  “You’ll come?”

“Of course.  I would like to bring Sabe.”

“Tradition dictates that you should,” she told her.

The second Knight had pulled out from the fight, had re-boarded his ship and taken off, away from them.  She didn’t try to follow.

No matter which way she had pushed and pulled, the Force was still painfully unclear around these Knights of Ren.

She voiced her frustration to him and Annju as they reboarded the craft, she paced the training chamber.  “Darkness lies before you.  I cannot stop thinking about it.”

“Who said that?” he asked her, his gaze intent.

She cleared her throat uncomfortably.

“I heard him too,” Annju said softly.  “Anakin Skywalker.”

She felt a twinge from him, he sneered, “I thought you didn’t believe in that myth, Torkana.”

“Didn’t think you did either, Solo.”

“Fascinating,” she interrupted them before it got worse.  Turned back to him.  “What else did he say to you?”

His mouth became angry and hard.  “Nothing of importance.”

She shook her head impatiently.  “Not him.  The one who left.”

“They were sent to see if it is true.”  The line of his shoulders was set, a challenge to Annju, his resolve thrumming through the floorboards and into the soles of her boots.  “To see if Kylo Ren is dead.”

She didn’t say anything, seeing that he didn’t know who had sent them, and she didn’t know, and there was no need to acknowledge old news.  

Though it felt familiar.  Too familiar.

“The Sith can hide in plain sight,” she murmured.  “Palpatine was a Senator, a politician, for many years.”

_“The power you give me I will lay down when this crisis has abated.”_

She shook her head, the old holocron she’d seen jumping to her unheeded.

Annju buzzed in her periphery.  “Well is he?”

“What?”  Rey had been turning the obvious over in her mind, the might of stars and destroyers.

“Is he dead?”

“Don’t indulge his theatrics,” Rey told Annju, just as he had started –

“Kylo Ren – ”

He turned to look at her, his hair falling in his eyes, mussed from the fight and her fingers, and she lost her thread of the quip, couldn’t help but think what it would feel like if they stole some moments alone, if he was able to stretch out against her, pounding and relentless –

“ – might still be around if that is your preference, Master.”

She rolled her eyes, but she saw her desire reflected back to her and it was hard to swallow.  “Hilarious.  Satisfied, Annju?”

Annju sighed.  “I cannot believe I have to work with another Solo.  I had been convinced that this chapter of my life was complete.”

“Interesting family,” Rey agreed as she led them back through the ship to the gangway.  “Let’s bring Horn and another pair with us.  I’m sure they are all ready.”

“Of course, Master Skywalker,” Annju smiled at her.  “When should we be ready to leave?”

“As soon as possible,” she was trying to ascertain what stages the fleet was in.  Bustling, unnerved.  Purposeful.  “They seem like they will be ready to leave soon.”

“I have to retrieve a couple things from my ship,” he rumbled as she concentrated on the landing sequence, easing the craft.

“Stay close to me,” she told him.  She flipped the gangway manually, half surprised as it lowered that no one had come to meet the ship.  “I won’t be able to leave you anywhere alone.”

His emotions were contained because of Annju’s presence, but she still felt a pang of his desire – it drew her to the hot gaze he shot behind the woman’s back.  “Everything is going according to plan.”

“Maybe if you had clued me in on this plan – ”

“You would never have agreed, I – ”

“Not everything has to be a thrill, a – ”

“This was not about a hunt – ”

“You just wanted to say you’d won – ”

“Finding you was only half the game.”

They alighted from the craft onto the grass and she paused to stare at him.  Half the game.

Annju’s presence nudged her and she waved a farewell.  Winced at her palpable amusement.

“I’m sure you’ll win.”  His voice was low, almost indecipherable, smoky.  A ghost skimmed across her lips, brushed her cheekbone and she caught herself leaning forward.  “Also you’re incredible.  Want to come back to my place?”

How she wished they were alone.

But she could already feel the restlessness of Finn, the anger of Poe, the anxiousness of Rose.  They were at the Silencer.

“You have company,” she said, wresting her gaze from his.  “Let’s get this over with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I wrote before seeing TROS. Next thought: so much retconning in TROS! But what else was JJ supposed to do? How do you build a citadel from ash?
> 
> We don't know how she fixed the lightsaber. The Resistance is magically larger than the four people who can fit on the Falcon. Kylo Ben is distracted by the dead alive so he isn't looking for her. There are several new Resistance fighters Who Have Been There The Whole Time. Rose and Finn didn't happen and Rose and Connix are barely there because the patriarchy (I can only assume).
> 
> You were a scavenger! You were a stormtrooper! We could do this all day!
> 
> Are there literally no other professions in this galaxy besides 1) royalty 2) politician 3) desert human 4) Jedi 5) stormtrooper 6) rebel and 7) smuggler?!??!
> 
> I digress.


End file.
